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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29006004">Endless Forms Most Beautiful</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilisidi/pseuds/ilisidi'>ilisidi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Body Dysmorphia, Canon-compliant violence, Curse-Breaking, Curses, F/M, Femme!Geralt, First Kiss, Gender Dysphoria, Grounding, Lambert is a Good Egg, M/M, Multi, Other, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Vesemir Deserves a Nap, fuck the mages, mentions of abuse non explicit, trial of the grasses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:55:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>29,122</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29006004</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilisidi/pseuds/ilisidi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The School of the Wolf has never taken girls. It's a fact that was never disputed, before. But when destiny gave our hero a child surprise... the White Wolf had no where to take her but home.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>105</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'd like to thank my amazing betas, Minutae, FrenchKey, and Circ_Bamboo, along with everyone else that's cheered me along, read this while I was working on it and told me to keep going, and otherwise just prodded me to actually write something again. </p>
<p>Warnings: This fic deals with some seriously heavy shit.  I try not to go too much into detail, but this was a bunny that would not leave, and I had to write it.  There are non-explicit mentions of past abuse, some fairly detailed panic attacks, and other issues revolving around gender and body issues.  If it's not for you, I understand.  Please keep your own self in mind.  I love you all, and be kind to yourselves and eachother.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Destiny really was a fucking bitch.  First, giving Geralt a child surprise, and now that he’d finally found her... A child surprise that brought far too many old memories to the surface. Even now, a day later, looking at her across a small campfire as she slept on the bedroll the farmers had given them, it set things he’d thought long dead on edge inside.  </p>
<p>“Who is Yennefer?” she’d asked, after he’d mumbled something stupid about Destiny.  He’d felt the chaos in her fingers, getting her settled, and again as they’d started North today.  Though Sodden had originally been his destination, getting Ciri to safety was more important than trying to find Yenn at this time.  Ciri’s question did move finding and apologizing to Yenn up the list however.  The girl - his <em> daughter </em> by Destiny’s hand - would need a magic teacher.  </p>
<p>A twig snapped in the fire and he shook himself out of his thoughts, checking the rabbits he’d put on a spit to roast earlier, making sure they were cooked enough for human consumption, a nicety he’d picked up from traveling with Jaskier.  </p>
<p>“Geralt, while I realize that <em> dead </em> is a requirement for you and cooked is not, I do prefer my meat to be at least <em> seared </em>,” the bard had teased.  </p>
<p>Growling quietly to himself, Geralt shoved thoughts of Jaskier back down.  He’d ruined that, most likely.  The rabbit was cooked enough, so he pulled one off onto a bit of wood to serve as a plate and went across to Ciri, setting it down near her and crouching down on his heels.  <br/><br/>“Ciri,” he said, as gently as he could, reaching out to touch her shoulder.  Fuck if he knew how she’d react if startled, he didn’t know her well at all.  When she only startled a little, blinking up at him, recognition coming quickly on the heels of waking, he nodded.  “Food’s done.”</p>
<p>Retreating to his side of the fire, he picked up the stick with the other rabbit.  Ciri picked at hers, eating neatly, but looking uncomfortable with the silence.  Right.  Small talk.  “Yenn - Yennefer, she’s a sorceress.  I met her in Rinde.”  And that was a fucking disaster, but she didn’t need to know that part.  “She.. helped a ..  she healed someone I knew, Jaskier.”</p>
<p>Ciri looked up at that, a piece of rabbit halfway to her mouth.  “Jaskier?  The bard?”  She sounded eager to hear his answer.</p>
<p>“.....Mmm,” he hummed, affirmatively.  “Djinn hurt his throat.  Yenn fixed it.”<br/><br/>“You know Jaskier?”  Ciri looked...oddly hopeful, like talking about Jaskier was comfortable, a topic she wanted to discuss. <br/><br/>“ <em> You </em> know Jaskier?” Geralt asked her, confused.  </p>
<p>~~</p>
<p>She was three, the first time she really remembered meeting the bard with blue eyes and a kind smile.  He was funny, knew lots of rhyming songs, and would teach them to her and let her dance to them during lessons.  </p>
<p>When she was six, he brought her a small harp, child sized, and started teaching her how to play it, and read the music he brought with him every year.  That was the first year she remembered asking him why he couldn’t stay always, and he’d smiled and told her about his friend, the White Wolf, who he traveled with the rest of the year.  About the adventures they went on, how the Wolf would hunt monsters and keep people safe.  She didn’t realize until she was eight that the White Wolf he talked about was a Witcher, mostly from an overheard comment, Mousesack reminding Jaskier not to talk about ‘The Witcher’ with her, per her Grandmother’s orders.  </p>
<p>When she asked Jaskier about it later, he just smiled a little sadly, and told her that the White Wolf had gone off to hunt alone for a while.  Although he’d always just said that... the White Wolf.  Never the Witcher, or that ‘he’ had gone off to hunt...Just that his friend, the Wolf, with white hair and gold eyes, graceful as a wolf, was off on an adventure alone.</p>
<p>~~<br/>She nodded, pushing her hair back behind her ears, seeming more at ease with Geralt now.  “He would come to court every winter for a month, and tutor me in music.  Grand...” and her face fell a little, “Grandmother found him... Amusing, but also didn’t seem to like him very much.  But she let him stay anyway.  He told the best stories.” <br/><br/>Geralt was completely startled by that.  Every winter?  He’d thought Jaskier went back to Oxenfurt, though maybe he did for a month or so before going to Cintra.  Ciri was still talking, however.  <br/><br/>“I think he told me stories about you.  Though he mostly called you White Wolf. Or Witcher.  Or just Wolf.”  She frowned a little, picking at her rabbit.  “Actually I don’t think he ever called you Geralt.  He described you though.  Mostly...” she trailed off.  </p>
<p>“Your grandmother didn’t like me at all,” Geralt offered. “Could be he was... making sure he didn’t anger her.”  He finished his meal, burying the stripped bones in the coals of the fire.   “Finish eating.  You need to get some more rest.  Dawn comes early.”  At least they had Roach.  </p>
<p>~~</p>
<p>As if that first night had been the ice breaking between them, Geralt found Ciri more willing to talk to him, asking him questions, though quietly at first.  He kept them off the main roads as much as he could, sticking to paths by the Ina river, though he knew he’d have to hit at least a few towns for supplies.  Ciri rode and he led Roach, sometimes moving at a ground-eating lope, for as long as his recently ghoul bitten leg could handle, sometimes just walking.   He learned that Jaskier had been an excellent music teacher, in her opinion, and was apparently the best at telling stories, and had been teaching her the art of politely insulting people which was the <em> greatest </em> .  Fortunately for him, just like Jaskier, if he could get her talking about something, all she needed from him was the occasional affirmative or interested noise, and she’d keep going for a while.  Which let him keep most of his attention on their surroundings, making sure they weren’t being followed or coming up on any troops.  Anyone’s troops.  Nilfgaard or otherwise.  <br/><br/>“...never called you a man though,” Ciri said, abruptly catching most of his attention. Clearly, she’d been chattering for a while about this. “Tall, broad shoulders, white hair, wears too much black, pretty eyes.  Witcher.”  <br/><br/>He realized he’d come to a stop in the road and was looking up at her when she raised her eyebrows, blue-green eyes that had seen too damn much for her age looking down into his with curiosity. </p>
<p>“Geralt?” she asked, sounding unsure.  Had she offended him?  </p>
<p>He didn’t quite manage to stop the flinch, eyes closing for a moment just slightly too long, and he took a breath and started walking again, turning his back to her.  It was easier than meeting those eyes, they saw too much, like another pair of blue eyes.  “It’s fine, Ciri.”</p>
<p>She made a disgruntled humming noise behind him (honestly, was he already teaching her bad habits?), and lapsed into silence for a while, leaving him to his thoughts.  That had been a question, hadn’t it, he wondered.  She was asking... It didn’t matter. He was a Witcher.  It was what it was.  Dragging his thoughts back around to their current situation, he traced their path in his mind.  </p>
<p>“Three days til Zavada,” he offered, as an olive branch for crushing the previous conversation.  “We’ll try to get you a little gear, if we can.”  He was missing his armor and his silver sword, but Calanthe’s guards hadn’t found Roach and stripped her, and his saddlebags still had a small stash of coins in them.  <br/><br/>A little sigh behind him let him know that the conversation wasn’t forgotten, but the offering was accepted.  “Will it be...safe?  To go into a town?” <br/><br/>“Zavada’s pretty small.  We won’t stay.”  Grimacing, he realized she’d probably get a better sleep if they could, stay in an inn overnight, get a good meal and a bath.  But he didn’t... trust.  Not this close to Cintra.  “If we can get farther away, we’ll try to stop overnight somewhere.  Hagge, maybe.”</p>
<p>“I trust you,” she told him, a quiet little punch to the heart.</p>
<p>~~</p>
<p>Zavada was every bit as small as Geralt had said, but it had a decent little market in it, and several people were selling used clothing.  He let Ciri pick over the selection of things, her hair tucked up under a hat to try and disguise her some, and kept half his attention on their surroundings. They really were far too close to Cintra still, too close to Sodden, and he wasn’t sure if Nilfgaard would have people out and about, or if anyone would consider turning over their former princess.  So far though, it was a simple stop.  </p>
<p>Ciri looked back at him, and gestured to the small collection of clothing and a pack.  “What do you think?”</p>
<p>Doing some quick math in his head, Geralt nodded at her choices.  Sturdy, though somewhat mended, and boy’s clothes.  “Good.  How much?” he asked the woman selling them.  </p>
<p>The older woman looked him over, and Ciri, seeing how worn both their outfits were, though Ciri’s still looked high quality.  “Fleeing the war?” she asked kindly, though a little wary.</p>
<p>The question made Ciri pull back, and she tucked herself against Geralt’s side, and slightly behind him.  “Yes,” Geralt said quietly.  “My niece saw far too much of it and got out with nothing.”</p>
<p>Nodding, the woman sighed, eyes sorrowful, and began packing the bag, putting in an extra sweater and several pairs of socks.  “Five crowns for the bag.  Filled,” she told them.  “Not many as need this size anyway, and I won’t have a child freezing.”</p>
<p>Geralt gave her a startled glance, looking up at her full on for the first time, and got a slightly shocked breath out of her as she saw his eyes for the first time.  He froze, waiting to see what she’d say.  </p>
<p>After a long moment she took a breath and picked up a grey sweater, well knit, and quite clearly Geralt’s size, not Ciri’s.  “Six for it all,” she told him.  “And should you see a brother, send them down, perhaps.  Battlefield’s make work.”</p>
<p>Geralt grunted in acknowledgement and gratitude and paid her.  “Thank you,” he said quietly.  Shouldering the pack, he put a hand on Ciri’s shoulder.  “Time we were leaving.”</p>
<p>“Gods speed you,” the vendor called after them.</p>
<p>Once they were back on the road, Ciri back on Roach’s back, she found her voice again.  “What did she mean by seeing a brother?”</p>
<p>Geralt looked back at her and raised an eyebrow.  “I’m not the only Witcher in the world. We consider each other...brothers, of a sort.  I have two, Eskel and Lambert.”</p>
<p>She looked startled at that.  “Oh.  Are they... like you?”</p>
<p>“I.. no.  Eskel is taller, by a little, and broader.  Darker hair, his eyes are a little darker as well.  Lambert is shorter, leaner, red hair with curls.”  </p>
<p>“<em> Wolf </em>,” she grumbled.  “I meant...”</p>
<p>He sighed and turned back to the road. “No,” he said flatly, answering the question she was trying to ask. But damn he wished one of his brothers was here.  Having a second Witcher to help get them to safety would be a divine stroke of luck. </p>
<p>~~</p>
<p>Ciri didn’t bring up the uncomfortable question she’d sprung on him about whether or not he was a man again until Murivel, when Geralt had managed to arrange a room for them in the inn.  The innkeeper was partly blind, thankfully, and hadn’t noticed Geralt’s eyes, and assumed that he was Ciri’s father, something the Witcher hadn’t bothered to correct, though his eyes had tightened in a nearly invisible flinch.  Geralt arranged for dinner in their room, and a bath to be sent up, and steered Ciri up the stairs into the small room he’d been able to rent.  </p>
<p>Dropping the saddlebags by the small table in the room, he gestured for Ciri to make herself comfortable, and slumped down in one of the small chairs.  The leg he’d been bitten on had healed, but still ached, damn Witcher healing.  After a moment, he realized Ciri was standing awkwardly in front of him, hands twisted together. Dropping his hands to his lap, he raised an eyebrow at her, hoping he didn’t look as - what was the word Jaskier liked to use?  Bitchy? - as he usually did when he was tired.  <br/><br/>“When they.. The bath..  You should go first,” Ciri said in a rush.  <br/><br/>“...Why?” he asked her, confused.  <br/><br/>“It’ll be warmer.  And you...um,” she trailed off, then sighed, wrinkling her nose.  “You have monster bits in your hair.” <br/><br/>That got a huff of a laugh out of him, startling them both.  “All right,” he acquiesced.  And then realized the difficulty of bathing in front of a girl, in a small room, when he didn’t trust anyone enough to send her out of the room.  “Fuck.  No.” <br/><br/>“I won’t <em> look </em>,” she grumbled.  “I’ll sort through the bags and see what we have for clothes.”</p>
<p>Fuck.  This shouldn’t be a problem but it was, because of some fucking <em> tradition </em> , and..  He growled a little under his breath, cutting off the mental spiral into memories he wished would <em> just stay buried </em>, then sighed.  “I’ll leave my braeis on.  They need washing anyway,” he added.  </p>
<p>Ciri grinned at him.  “Can I wash your hair then?  It really is gross.”  </p>
<p>What was it with his companions and wanting to wash his hair?  It was just...hair.  Weirdly colored hair.  Touching, she’d have to touch... but just his hair.  He could handle that.  “Fine,” he grumbled, and got up to answer the door as a pair of maids brought up a tub of fairly warm water.  Fortunately they ignored Ciri as they got the tub in place, and then hurried out, obviously busy as the noise picked up downstairs. </p>
<p>He stripped rapidly, leaving his smallclothes on, tested the water and hit it with a brief igni, then stepped into the now steaming water. He gave a little hiss that turned into a cut off little groan as he sat down in the water with his knees up and it hit the fresh bite scar on his thigh.  “Fuck,” he grunted, propping his arms up on his knees and putting his head down on them.</p>
<p>He heard quiet footsteps as Ciri crossed over to the tub, then cold fingers settled on the back of his neck, the touch more than the temperature making him flinch away.  “Wolf?” she asked quietly, pulling her hand away as soon as he twitched.  “Are.. Are you alright?”</p>
<p>Wolf, not Geralt.  Like Jaskier.  Fuck.  And he was tired, just... so tired.  If he had the bard with him, there’d be two of them to look out for Ciri.  Plus she knew Jaskier, trusted him.  Fuck.  </p>
<p>Lifting his head off his arms, he stretched a little.  “I’m fine, Ciri.  I’m just tired.  Go sort, I’ll get clean and you can have the bath.”  Once he’d heard her move off, he found the bit of soap they’d brought up, and scrubbed up quickly, before rinsing off and getting up, wrapping one of the old towels around his waist securely without looking and sitting down on the floor beside it. “If you actually want to wash my hair, this is probably best.”</p>
<p>Ciri looked up from the small pile of clothing she was sorting and nodded, coming over to do just that.  “How come it’s white?”  she asked, in that artless way children do.</p>
<p>“Mutations,” he told her, tipping his head back over the tub and closing his eyes as she poured water over his head.  “Mine made my hair white.  And my eyes are a little lighter than my brothers’ eyes.”</p>
<p>“Why just yours?  ...Eeew,” she grumbled, a little yank on part of his hair evidence that the ew was about whatever she’d found, not brothers.</p>
<p>“They put me through extra mutations,” he explained.  The noise from the tavern picked up a little more, a few people making noises that were a bit on the distressed side.  “Ciri, can you hurry?”</p>
<p>“Why?” she asked, hands freezing in his hair, her heart rate kicking up.  </p>
<p>“The water’s getting cooler, for one, and I’d like to check on our meal downstairs,” he lied, somewhat.  Both of those were true, but he also wanted to know what the fuss was about, and really wanted to be done with the <em> touching </em>, even though she was just a child.  </p>
<p>“Oh,” she breathed, her relief obvious, and resumed washing his hair.  She did hurry it up a bit, working through it as quickly as she could, then rinsing it.  “If you have a comb, I can comb it later.”</p>
<p>He sat up and gave her a little smile before moving over to the pile of clothing (his and hers, neither of them had much), and pulling out a clean shirt and smallclothes.  “Turn around, I’ll get dressed and go check on things while you bathe.  I’ll knock when I come back.”</p>
<p>Dressing quickly, once she was turned, he ruffled her hair and slipped out the door, heading downstairs.  The din was dying down, whatever had caused a ruckus was either no longer in process, or had left.  Stepping into the main room, he looked about and spotted a familiar set of spiky red armor settling into a table at the back of the room.  The Alderman was just leaving, an oilsack held out away from his body, and a look of distaste on his face.  Slipping through the crowd, Geralt made his way over to Eskel’s table and dropped down onto the bench on the other side.  </p>
<p>“Good contract, ‘Skel?” he asked, mouth quirking in a small half smile.  </p>
<p>“Wolf,” Eskel said warmly, smiling at him. “Didn’t think I’d see you here, you usually don’t come through until much later, if at all.”</p>
<p>Geralt looked his brother over, checking for injury with eyes and scent.  Eskel likely could also do with a bath, but other than that, he seemed fine.  “Got something I need to discuss with you.  Not here,” he added.</p>
<p>Eskel raised his eyebrows but nodded as the serving girl set his food and a mug of ale down in front of him.  “I’ve a room.  End of the hall, on the right.”</p>
<p>Geralt nodded.  “Eat.  I’ll find you.”  Standing, he went to check with the innkeeper, and was given a tray with two bowls of stew, a small loaf of dark bread, a mug of ale, and a mug of small beer to take up with him.  It smelled good, better than half-burnt rabbit over a fire, at any rate.  Geralt <em> could </em> cook, he just usually didn’t have the time, or inclination to bother on the road.  </p>
<p>~~</p>
<p>Eskel watched Geralt head back up with a tray of food, his own meal forgotten for a moment.  The Wolf looked like absolute hell, circles under eyes that were holding too much tension, scent bitter and anxious.  And out of armor, which was an oddity for a Witcher, even in an inn.  Whatever his oldest friend wanted to talk about, it was pushing the tension the Witcher carried to a snapping point.  And Eskel was worried.  Had always worried, from the day his best friend Vi had gone down for her trials, and two months later...Geralt had come back.  </p>
<p>Quickly, he finished his food and headed up to his own inn room.  Whatever was happening, he would be there for his friend, as he always had been.  </p>
<p>~~</p>
<p>Returning to the room, Geralt knocked, then leaned against the doorframe to wait for Ciri.  “It’s me,” he called through the door, just in case.</p>
<p>Ciri hadn’t dawdled in the bath, apparently, because she opened the door a moment later, dressed in an over-large shirt and a pair of trousers from the vendor in Zavada.  “Oh, that looks wonderful,” she exclaimed, taking the tray of food from him and bringing it to the table.  </p>
<p>Closing the door behind him, he joined her at the table, breaking the bread in half.  “One of my brothers is here,” he told her.  “I’d...like to introduce you.  It could be helpful, having a second set of eyes on the road.  And he’s a bit less.. Obvious,” he added, gesturing to his stupid white hair.  </p>
<p>Ciri looked up from her stew, locking eyes with him again, considering his words.  After a moment, she nodded.  “Okay.  I trust you,” she added, those three words still a punch straight to his heart.  </p>
<p>Awkwardly, he nodded, and looked back at his dinner, inhaling it rapidly. Once they’d both finished, he put the tray out in the hall for the maids to collect, and, inwardly gritting his teeth, let Ciri comb his hair out, then went in search of Eskel.  End of the hall, on the right.  Three rooms between them, and the hall.  He knocked, short, short, long, then a rattle of his fingers, a pattern they’d used in Kaer Morhen when they’d crept into each other's rooms at night.  Before... well. Before.  Eskel opened the door and stepped back to let him in, giving him a curious look when Geralt shook his head. </p>
<p>“Not here, Wolf?” he asked.</p>
<p>“No.  My room,” Geralt told him, and stepped back, gesturing for Eskel to follow him.  His brother left his armor, having taken off the gambeson and knee protection he favored, but picked up his swords, bringing them with him.</p>
<p>Geralt led him back to the room, knocking once to let Ciri know they were coming in, then opened the door.  He went in first, not wanting Ciri to be scared, and found the girl sitting on the edge of the bed, clothes packed away again.  Her eyes went a little wide as Eskel followed him in, but she smiled at his brother anyway.  </p>
<p>Eskel stopped short behind him and tensed up.  “..Wolf,” he murmured, trying to figure out what was going on.  Fuck, the girl looked like..  His eyes flicked over to Geralt, old sorrow crawling up his throat, one hand clenching to stop him from reaching out to the other Witcher.</p>
<p>~~</p>
<p>Five year old Eskel glowered at his uncle as the man shoved him over to the grey-haired Witcher inside the keep in the mountains.  He didn’t want to be here, it was <em> cold </em>.  But his uncle left anyway, and the old Witcher sighed down at him and gestured for him to follow.  Inside the big keep it was warmer, and also busy.  Footsteps from a hallway to the side alerted him that someone was coming, and he looked around the old Witcher, who stopped at the sound, and saw a child about his own age, bright green eyes and pale, strawberry blond hair come skidding to a stop.  She looked at Eskel for a long moment, then up at the Witcher.  “A new trainee, Master Vesemir?”</p>
<p>“Yes,”  the old Witcher, Vesemir, said.  “Viressia, this is Eskel.  He’ll be staying with you for now.  Eskel, this is Vi, another trainee.  Vi, get him settled,” he added, then left the two to get acquainted.</p>
<p>“I didn’t think girls could be Witchers,” Eskel said, eyes wide.</p>
<p>Vi put her chin up. “I’m going to be the best Witcher <em> ever </em>.  Just you watch.”</p>
<p>~~</p>
<p>Making sure the door got shut, Geralt tried to find words that wouldn’t just make Eskel leave.  Child surprises were touchy subjects, and he <em> knew </em> that.  “Eskel,” he said finally, turning to gesture to Ciri.  “Meet...Ciri.  My child surprise. And missing crown princess of Cintra.”</p>
<p>Ciri stood and bobbed a little curtsey to Eskel.  “Pleased to meet you,” she said, a little tentatively.  </p>
<p>Eskel’s eyes snapped from Ciri to Geralt at the words ‘child surprise’, narrowing into a glare, before going wide again at the mention of Cintra.  After a tense moment, he sighed, and bumped his knuckles against Geralt’s shoulder briefly, the Wolf flinching away slightly, before moving past him to sit down and nod to Ciri.  “I swear, Wolf, you find yourself in the worst situations.  Pleased to meet you, princess.”</p>
<p>“Just Ciri.  Or Fiona,” she told him.  “To be... To be safe.”</p>
<p>“Wise,” Eskel acknowledged.  </p>
<p>Geralt joined him at the small table, taking the other chair, as Ciri sat back down on the bed.  “I need to get her to Kaer Morhen.  Fast.  Quietly.”</p>
<p>“Yeah I can see that.  You want me to run interference, or come with?” Eskel asked, looking at the meager belongings.  One bedroll, some fairly empty looking saddlebags.  One sword, no armor.  “...Wolf, where’s your armor?”</p>
<p>Flicking a look over to Ciri, Geralt shook his head a little.  “Had some issues getting out of Cintra.  And joining us,” he added, answering the question Eskel had asked.</p>
<p>Eskel gave Geralt a look that clearly said ‘we’re discussing this later’, but let it slide.  “We leaving at first light?  And.. you still have Roach, at least?”</p>
<p>“Yes, we still have Roach,” Geralt told him with a half smile.  “At first light.”</p>
<p>Nodding, Eskel turned in the chair and offered his hand to the princess.  She had no knowledge of what scars the past had left on him, and was obviously still scared, likely from whatever had happened getting out of Cintra.  Plus, she was a child, and Eskel couldn’t find it in him to be wary of her.  “I’ll see you in the morning, Ciri.”</p>
<p>She took it, shaking it firmly, with a little smile.  “See you in the morning, Uncle Eskel.”</p>
<p>Chuckling under his breath at the ‘uncle’ part, he left for his own room. Uncle, he could live with that.  </p>
<p>After locking the door behind Eskel, Geralt spread the bedroll out, making himself comfortable for some meditation.  “Go to sleep, Ciri.  It’ll be morning far too soon.”</p>
<p>“Goodnight, White Wolf,” she murmured, curling up in the bed.  </p>
<p>With a flick of his fingers through igni, the candles went out.</p>
<p>~~</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Joined up with Eskel, the White Wolf continues on towards Kaer Morhen, trying to bring Ciri to safety.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings for Panic Attacks.  Flashback to post-trials Vi to Geralt transformation (from Eskel's viewpoint, not explicit).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Geralt and Ciri made it down, Eskel was waiting for them at the stables, Scorpion and Roach both tacked up and ready to go.  Geralt passed out a breakfast of sausage rolls and an apple each.  Geralt nodded a good morning to Eskel, and put the saddlebags back on Roach along with Ciri’s little bag, then gave Eskel’s big stallion an appraising look.  “If you put some of your stuff on Roach with me, could Scorpion carry you and Ciri for a while?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably, and we’d make decent time that way.  I think we’d best cut up through Redania and take the goat track over to the Killer anyway,” Eskel told the other Witcher, watching for a reaction.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt made a face but nodded.  “Hate that path, but it’s not winter.  And no one in plate is going up that.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Between the two of them they got the loads for the horses rebalanced, and once Eskel had swung up onto Scorpion, Geralt gave Ciri a boost.  “Up you get,” he said with a little smile.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She settled down in front of Eskel, wrapped up in her blue cloak again, and yawned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel chuckled.  “You can nap, kid.  I won’t let you fall.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Swinging up onto Roach’s back, Geralt led the way out of town in the faint light of dawn, a bit of mist curling around the houses and fence posts as they left that small bit of civilization behind.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travelling with Eskel did make things easier.  Geralt was able to get some actual sleep at night, since he and Eskel could take watches, and Ciri warmed up to the big, gentle Witcher almost immediately.  And though their relationship had changed, after the trials, Eskel was still the one Geralt trusted most.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately for all three of them, Nilfgaard had sent small scout groups north, searching for Ciri.  They were two days out from Hagge, making their way by small back roads into Kaedwen, when Geralt, ranging ahead on foot, picked up the tracks of several horses, carrying heavier loads than most travelers would be, and no signs of a wagon.  Cursing under his breath, he swung off the road and gave a whistled signal, telling Eskel to get off the road as well, though they were farther back.  After a moment he got a different whistle back, Eskel acknowledging and going to ground with Ciri and the horses.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt moved cautiously, senses on alert, seeking the group that had passed by earlier that day, hoping it was just bandits, internal pessimism fairly certain it was Nilfgaard.  It took him near an hour to find where they’d camped, just down the road, and he mentally swore when pessimism proved correct:  Nilfgaard.  A scout group, well armed and armored.  Eight men, each with their own mount.  Montecalvo was the next big stop that this road converged on, and he and Eskel had hoped to pick up more supplies for the run up the mountains. Clearly, that plan was going to need to change.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silently, he drew back, trailing back along the road, and followed the barest hints that Eskel had left, mostly a scent trail that the humans couldn’t track, to find where his brother and ward had gone to ground. Eskel had found a cave, it seemed, well camouflaged with vines and bushes, and clearly large enough for even the horses, as there was no sign of them outside.  With a soft whistle of identification, he slipped inside, making sure he had obscured his own trail behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri looked up from her knees where she was huddled against the wall of the cave, looking worried.  “Geralt!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel held out a hunk of bread he’d stuffed with some cheese and dried meat, and raised his brows in a silent question.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking the food, Geralt grunted back at him in irritation.  “Eight,” he answered the unspoken request for information.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mage?”  Eskel settled back on his heels, and passed a similar bundle of food, though smaller, over to Ciri, giving her a reassuring smile.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She took the food, still looking upset, but tried to smile back at him as she settled down to eat it.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t see anyone obvious, no.  Could have a xenovox though, wouldn’t know until we go through their things.”  Geralt finished his meal and stretched a little, rolling his shoulders.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Humming quietly in acknowledgement, Eskel started going through his bag, taking inventory of bombs, potions, and oils.   “Keep one up, to report under Axii?”   He tossed a waterskin over to Geralt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt drank and set the water aside, nodding to him.  “Probably wise.  Your task then.”  Eskel was the best with signs, it was the truth.  “I’ll make sure no one runs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel wordlessly passed several samun bombs over, and a swallow potion. “Wolf.  Why’d you have to leave your armor in Cintra?  Couldn’t you and Ciri have taken the time to grab it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri made a little noise of dismay, and shook her head.  “Uncle Eskel..  We didn’t leave Cintra together.  We met up by Sodden.  And Ger- Wolf didn’t have the armor or anything.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Ciri cut herself off from saying ‘Geralt’, Eskel gave her a startled, then slowly appraising look.  As soon as what she said processed, he frowned, looking between the two of them.  “When?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Met up just over a week ago,” Geralt sighed.  “I went to Cintra.. I saw Nilfgaard marching, and went to try and convince Calanthe to let me take Ciri, just for a few days.  If Cintra succeeded in pushing them back, I swore I’d return her.”  Glancing over to Ciri, he managed a wry, sort-of smile.  “Your grandmother tried to give me one of your ladies instead.  And when I discovered the deception, she arrested me.  I got out of Cintra just before you, I think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri gave him a sad look.  “We missed each other by hours, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you, princess, traveled alone for.. What, weeks?” Eskel was still frowning between the two of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking down at her lap, Ciri murmured, “Almost two months.  Until I reached a little village north of Sodden, and a farmer’s wife took me in.  I spent... A while in Brokilon though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt made a little hiss of sound, looking down at the bombs in his lap.  “Fuck.  I was just.  I should have waited for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she said, voice tight, fighting tears.  “No, then you would have been caught up by Nilfgaard too.  I-I barely made it out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel shifted over, resting a hand on her shoulder.  “It’s okay, cub.  We’re all together now.  It’s worked out in the end.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded and took a breath, letting it out slowly, and trying to relax.  He was right.  And that was past now, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>over. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She’d found Geralt of Rivia.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Glancing out of the mostly hidden cave entrance, Geralt hummed and then turned back to his brother and Ciri.  “If we want to hit them while the moon’s still down, we should go now.”</span>
  <span></span>
    <br/>
  
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Nodding, Eskel pulled out a Cat, and drank half before tossing it to Geralt to drink the other.  Turning back to Ciri, knowing his eyes were going dark, he handed her a sheathed dagger he’d gotten out earlier.  “Anyone comes in, you stab them.  I don’t care who it is, if it isn’t us, the pointy end goes into them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That got him a firm nod out of Ciri, and she set the dagger on her lap.  “Be safe, both of you.  Please,” she added, hating the way her voice wobbled on the last word.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll come back, cub.  Just stay here,” Geralt told her with a ghost of a smile, his own eyes black now from Cat, and slipped out of the cave to lead the way back to the very unlucky scouting group’s camp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel and Geralt slipped soundlessly through the forest, pausing once they’d come within Witcher sight of the two sentries the scouting party had left.  Eskel tapped Geralt’s shoulder, and signaled a flanking maneuver..  Better if they attack both sentries at the same time.  Signaling his assent, Geralt ghosted off through the darkness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as he’d come up near his target, Geralt gave a little chirrup noise, similar to many different noises during the night.  The sentry didn’t even look his way, ignoring the noise, and Geralt gave a little feral smile as he heard the responding chirp from Eskel.  10, 9, 8, 7, 6... he counted in his head, edging around into a better position, and taking one of the samun bombs in his off hand.  As soon as he reached ‘1’, he acted, lunging out of the bushes and neatly removing the sentries head.  He lobbed the bomb into the center of the camp, aiming for the banked campfire. At the same time catching a flash of steel and heat as Eskel moved on from taking out the other sentry.  The moment the bomb exploded, all hell broke loose, the scouts lunging  to their feet or lurching up from where they’d been sleeping, shouting in Nilfgaardian.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt followed the bomb in, dispatching two scouts that came at him, and one that hadn’t managed to get out of his bedroll yet. He was peripherally aware of Eskel neatly dispatching another pair of scouts, and then slamming a fist into the one with the fanciest armor, but kept most of his attention on his own opponents, until movement in the camp ceased.  He took a long look, assuring himself that he and Eskel (and Eskel’s captive) were the last living beings in the camp, then relaxed and started searching the camp.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Almost unfair,” Eskel grumbled, patting down his captive, looking for any sort of communication device.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmph,” Geralt grunted.  They wanted to capture or kill Ciri.  He was only too pleased to remove them from their path.  Emptying out a bag, Geralt started packing it with supplies that could be useful to them and that weren’t bloodied by the fight.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ahah,” came a triumphant mutter from Eskel, and he pulled a xenovox out of the man’s belt-pouch.  “Go figure.  I’ll stay here with him, get him to pass on a misdirect, then rejoin you two at the cave.  Get back to the cub, yeah Wolf?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he replied, and gathered up the bag and an extra bedroll that had still been rolled up.  “Maybe direct them further west and north - Kovir?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or Skellige,” Eskel muttered, smiling unpleasantly at his unconscious captive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>rude</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Geralt chuckled, then nodded.  “See you back at the cave.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel waited as Geralt slipped off, settling down with his captive and the xenovox they’d found. What a mess.  A child surprise - he’d thought the Wolf would have known better than to claim the law of surprise.  Although Ciri was no Dierdre, that was only too clear even from the short time he’d spent in her company.  And she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been in a loving, stable home.  Until Nilfgaard. The sound of his captive groaning a little brought his thoughts back to the present.  For now, time to redirect a little heat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The scout sat up, looking confused, and Eskel grimly hit him with another Axii, then held out the xenovox.  “You need to report.  You picked up the princess’s trail, going west following the Pontar.  You suspect she’s heading for Skellige.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodding mutely, the scout took the xenovox from him, activating it and reporting in, exactly as Eskel had asked him to.  Eskel knew enough Nilfgaardian to understand the conversation, and was grimly pleased to hear the voice on the other end indicate that they would redirect patrols from further north in Redania to follow the Pontar. As soon as the connection was cut, he killed the scout and destroyed the xenovox.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Collecting a few useful things that had been left for him to carry, he started back towards the cave, worrying over the problem of his dear friend and the princess.  He had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well, not for the Wolf.  For Vi.  Because as much as his friend tried to fight it, growled and snapped at people, pushed them away, it was still Vi in there.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~ </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The travel to Mirt, where they could pick up a trail that would take them to Aedd Gynvael, went peacefully.  Eskel’s redirecting of the patrols seemed to have worked, or at least there weren’t anymore on this small back road that they were taking along the base of the mountains.  It was late summer, which meant that the monsters in the area had been pretty well thinned out earlier in the year when the wolves had come through from Kaer Morhen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri had relaxed around Eskel as they traveled as well, asking him questions about growing up as a Witcher, what was the keep like, how did they fight monsters... Everything.  Eskel just took it in stride,  answering what he could, switching off between having her ride with him, or riding Roach while Geralt walked.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Listening to Ciri ask questions about Witcher training, and could she learn to use a sword like that, would they teach her, Geralt was hit with a sudden surge of nausea and a sense of panic.  What was he </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, taking a girl to Kaer Morhen?  Hadn’t he learned?  Didn’t he </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>?  Closing his eyes, mostly unaware of Roach underneath him, placidly following Scorpion along the road, he fought down the memories, the feelings.  There were no mages in Kaer Morhen any longer.  No trainers, other than Vesemir.  Ciri would be fine. And it was the safest place for her.  Safe.  She would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel looked back over his shoulder, aware that Roach had dropped back slightly, and that the Wolf was even quieter than usual, and had to fight his instincts to stop them and run back to his friend. There was a faint scent of panic, of anxiety, and the Wolf had dropped Roach’s reins to the pommel, fortunately a signal for the well trained horse to continue along the road.  Ciri’s voice broke through his worry, and he turned back to her, resolving internally to try and get his Wolf alone for a moment, to talk, at some point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Coming back to himself, Geralt found that at least several hours had passed while he’d been at war with himself.  Looking ahead to Eskel and Ciri, he caught Eskel looking back at him.  The other Witcher raised his eyebrows, making his worry clear, and Geralt shook his head.  No, fuck no, he really really did not want to talk about it.  Talking about it was completely useless.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nudging Roach, he drew up even with the pair.  “We should reach Mirt tonight. Risks of stopping?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel gave his friend a long look, but then clearly let it pass...for now.  “Let’s see how busy town is.  We’re far enough north, and it’s small enough, I think it should be safe.  One of us can check with the locals about the pass as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll get us settled at the inn then, you check on the pass.  You speak goat-herder better than I do.”  Eskel rolled his eyes at Geralt for the comment, and Geralt found a spark of humor and a wry smile.  “Just don’t buy another goat, hey?  We’ve already got one kid to get over the mountains.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“....Hey!” Ciri yelped, giving him a completely offended look before dissolving into giggles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel poked her in the ribs, making her laugh harder.  “I don’t know, Wolf, this one’s kinda bony, I don’t think she’d make a very good stew...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tension somewhat released, they continued on into the small town.  Geralt took Ciri with him into the inn, asking for a room with two beds, if they had one, since he and Eskel would be taking watches during the night regardless of how safe the town felt, and arranged for a bath for each of them in the small bathhouse attached.  There was a divider separating the women’s side from the men’s side, but it wasn’t so thick that they couldn’t hear through it, so he felt safe enough letting Ciri bathe on her own - but after dinner, once Eskel was back, then they could all three go.  As they moved through the various tasks they needed to do to get settled in the inn, Geralt felt his mind shifting back around to the thought of Ciri in Kaer Morhen, and he stopped what he was doing to count backwards in Elder to try and pull himself back out of it.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri was sorting through the clothing and piling up what needed washing, when she noticed that Geralt (no, Jaskier hadn’t used that name) - the White Wolf had gone still.  Looking over with a little frown, she saw the Witcher’s hands clench on the strap of the potion bag.  A muscle twitched along the Wolf’s jaw, and she bit her lower lip, trying to figure out if she should, or even could, do something.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d asked Jaskier about his friend once, when the bard had stopped telling her so many stories about the Wolf, and remembered what he’d said then:  “Sometimes, Princess, people get so tangled up inside that they snap.  Sometimes you can stay with them and help, and sometimes you just have to leave,” he’d told her sadly.  “The Wolf needed some time alone, I think, some time to think and hunt, and just be.  Maybe someday we’ll meet again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hesitating for a long moment, she set down the shirt she was holding and took a step towards the Witcher, just in time for Eskel to open the door, startling her into a little shriek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt reacted to Ciri’s startled noise without thought, drawing his sword and spinning to put himself between her and the door before the rest of his senses caught up.  Eskel put his hands up, a wry smile on his face, eyes gentle.  “It’s just me, Wolf,” the larger Witcher said quietly.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sighing, hating the little shake in his breath, Geralt came out of the combat stance he’d slipped into, and re-sheathed his sword.  “Fuck.  Knock next time, ‘skel.”  They both knew that Geralt should have heard him coming, but Eskel didn’t say anything, just set his own pile of laundry down on the obvious ‘dirty clothes’ pile that Ciri had made.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you okay, Wolf?”  Ciri’s voice was small as she looked up at Geralt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine.  I’m fine,” he told her curtly, then winced and tried a smile.  “Sorry.  Shall we all go get a bath?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel gave him a long look, and Geralt stifled the desire to duck his head and try to hide behind his hair. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  He would </span>
  <em>
    <span>be</span>
  </em>
  <span> fine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, Wolf.  Let’s go,” came the reply finally from Eskel.  “Put the laundry outside the door, cub, and we’ll all head down.  Got something clean with you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri nodded at him, and handed Eskel her clean outfit so she could put the laundry out in the hall.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gathering their things, they made their way down to the bathing room, Eskel and Geralt doing a sweep to make sure it was clear before letting Ciri go into the women’s side alone.  Geralt stood by the partition, one hand digging into the opposite wrist, digging his thumb into the side of his arm.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> this.  He should be...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel gently bumped his shoulder, startling him.  “Come on, Wolf.  The sooner we get clean, the sooner we’re all together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel watched his friend out of the corner of his eyes as the Wolf stripped down and slumped into one of the waiting bathtubs.  Even in the water, they never fully relaxed, tension obvious in the bunching of shoulder muscles.  This wasn’t going well for his friend, Ciri was too... too much  of a reminder.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sighing into his own bath, he remembered the day the Wolf had finally come back from the second round of mutations.  Eskel had been waiting, watching for his friend, worried sick.  No one else had secondary mutations.  And it took so much longer than the first round.  Finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the door opened to Vi’s dorm, where Eskel had been pacing, and he turned, expecting his friend and stumbled a little with a punched out noise.  Vi was </span>
  <em>
    <span>gone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Standing in the door was a taller, broader, definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>male</span>
  </em>
  <span> Witcher trainee.  With Vi’s face, if Vi had been a boy.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“....Vi?”  he’d breathed, struggling.  What had they </span>
  <em>
    <span>done</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This stranger had flinched, hard, and slipped around him, keeping a wide berth between them.  “...They.  It’s.  Geralt now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Vi...</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Eskel sounded strangled, fighting for control, and reached out, only to pull his hand back and step back a little when his friend </span>
  <em>
    <span>flinched</span>
  </em>
  <span> again, avoiding his hand.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“..L-Leave it, ‘Skel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he had, he’d left it, because he didn’t know how to help, what to do.  But now...  That same tension from before was dragging his friend back down and this time...  this time there were no mages or trainers to stop him from trying to help.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt washed rapidly, touching himself as little as possible, scrubbing harshly, then got out of the bath, drying off just as rapidly and pulling on the cleanest clothes he had. He looked over to Eskel, startled to find his brother watching him, and pulled absently at his shirtsleeves, then clutching his wrist again before dropping his hands to his sides.  “I... dinner,” he said, voice breaking slightly, making it seem almost like a question. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel nodded.  “I’ll keep an ear on our girl, Wolf.  We can eat in the room.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodding, Geralt basically fled from the bathing room, needing to get away.  Eskel had always been able to read him too well, and he needed to get a handle on his feelings.  Somehow.  He wasn’t usually this on edge, but something about traveling with Ciri, being separated from her when really he </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>have to be, wouldn’t have to be except for traditions, was dredging up emotions he’d thought he’d managed to bury.  Apparently those wounds weren’t closed at all, just...scabbed over and festering, and being constantly in the company of a girl, a girl he had once been, was setting everything off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Acquiring dinner for the three of them cost him most of the meager amount of coin he had left, and once back in the room, he settled down on his knees and tried to meditate, searching for a sense of balance that seemed just out of reach.  His chest felt heavy, reminding him of the time a Fiend had shoved him into a wall in its death throes, and he’d come to with half the building on top of him.  Clenching his jaw, Geralt dug his fingers into the worn leather of his trousers, breath coming shorter, and hunched over, a high pitched whine starting up in the back of his skull, drowning out the noise from the tavern downstairs.  Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, Geralt was completely unaware of his hand scrabbling up his left arm to claw at his bicep through the shirt, fingers digging in hard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel and Ciri, having finally finished, headed upstairs to the room.  Halfway down the hallway, Eskel stopped short and latched onto Ciri’s shoulder, stopping her as well.  “Cub, stay here for a moment, please.”  The scent of panic and anxiety was intense, roiling out of their room like a miasma.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frowning, Ciri looked up at him, confused.  “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wolf needs a moment.  Let me go and help, all right?  I’ll come get you.  Scream if you need us, okay?”  He gave her shoulder a little squeeze, and Ciri nodded up at him, worried.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leaving her in the hall, Eskel slipped into the room quietly, and then swore quietly under his breath.  He hadn’t seen the Wolf in this state for decades, and it was not a good sign for his friend’s mental state.  The other Witcher’s heart rate was far too high, breath coming in little pants, hunched over on their knees with right hand spasmodically gripping and pulling at their left bicep.  “Wolf,” Eskel said softly, aiming for soothing, and tried to catch his friend’s eyes.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No response, so he tried again, a little louder.  “Wolf.  Wolf! ...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Vi,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he finally said, fighting back the urge to reach out and touch his friend, knowing at this point touch would only make it worse.  “Vi, </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Breathe with me.  We’re all safe, breathe.  Slow, in....and out...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt was unaware of Eskel entering, the whine in his head overwhelming everything until   ..”Vi,” Eskel’s voice, cutting through the whine.  After ..minutes?  Seconds?  He realized Eskel was still talking, repeating instructions to breathe, in a low, quiet, soothing rumble, doing the breathing himself as well.  It took a little bit longer (Geralt still wasn’t sure how long) before he managed to match his breathing to Eskel’s.  Slowly, slowly, the whine started quieting, and he managed to open his eyes, seeing Eskel’s hands, palm up, on the other Witcher’s knees, relaxed in a meditation pose.  Feeling as though he’d just taken every damn adrenaline potion in his bag, Geralt let his hands drop to his own knees, trying to turn them up and relax them, but still shaking at the moment.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good, Vi,” Eskel murmured, continuing to breathe slowly.  In, out, in out. Not a true meditative state, but just a good relaxed baseline.  “Can you tell me where you are?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt (Vi... he.. They.. were still Vi, weren’t they?  Maybe?) flexed his fingers a little, still shaking slightly.  Where were they?  “..Inn.”  Yes.  “Mirt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” came the gentle response.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ciri...Ciri?”  Geralt’s breath caught for a moment, only to have a surge of panic interrupted by Eskel’s calm voice again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In the hall, I can hear her still.  Breathe, Wolf.  You can hear her too.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking a deeper, slower breath, Geralt tried to focus, the panic slowly receding.  It felt like it took an eternity, but he was finally able to pick up Ciri’s child-quick heartbeat out in the hall.  A surge of nausea roiled through him, and he shuddered hard.  “‘Skel...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Wolf. I’m here too, we’re both here to guard her.  She’s safe.”  Eskel took a little risk, and bumped his knuckles against Geralt’s knee very lightly.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck.”  Geralt took another deep breath, and rubbed his hands over his face. His arm hurt, felt bruised, and he knew what must have happened.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You alright for me to bring her in, Wolf?”  Eskel waited, still kneeling across from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One more breath, in and out, and Geralt nodded, slowly pushing himself to relax.  “Yeah.  Before dinner gets colder.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel carefully bumped his knuckles against the Wolf’s knee again, and went to fetch their waiting cub from the hall.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once dinner had been finished, and the dishes deposited out in the hall, Eskel tucked Ciri into one of the beds, and gently chivvied his Wolf into taking the other.  “I’ll meditate, it’s fine.  You need to rest,” he told his friend, voice quiet.  He could see and scent just how exhausted his Wolf was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt gave in, sagging into the bed with obvious exhaustion.  “M’sorry, ‘Skel..” he mumbled into the pillow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel reached out, and gently stroked across the back of his Wolf’s head.  There was a little flinch when he first made contact, but the scalp was about the only place that his friend had been able to tolerate touches, after what had happened. Though Eskel would be happy to touch, regardless of the body, he knew that something in how the magic worked made the Wolf’s skin alternately numb and sharply prickly, like there were needles under the skin.  Since this was all the affection he could show, he would do his best and hope the message got through.  He pet the soft white strands  carefully, avoiding the base of the skull or anywhere near the ears or temples, and was rewarded with a very quiet noise, and a slow descent into sleep.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carefully moving to the floor to start his meditation, Eskel closed his eyes against the old pain, the old anger.  This time, when they got back to Kaer Morhen, they’d train a girl to be a Witcher with no trials, no torture.  And maybe... maybe he could finally convince his Wolf to see if one of the sorceresses they knew could remove that thrice-damned cursed thing from their arm.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Things spiral further for the Wolf as they journey ever closer to Kaer Morhen.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings: Another panic attack, dissociation, not recognizing of reflection.   Again, please be mindful of your own experiences.  If you choose to read, I hope I am continuing to do this story and its concepts justice.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The track over the mountains out of Mirt really was little more than a goat track, as the main trade road went south by the Pontar instead of trying to pass through the mountains this far north, but the Witchers had been counting on that when they’d chosen this route.  Eskel was leading, as he’d gotten a sketchy sort of map from one of the herders that lived outside the town, along with the various stories of what could go wrong and where various shelters were.  The track did go all the way through, though it would take them anywhere from three days to a week, depending on weather. This late in the summer and this far north, storms had a tendency to boil up with very little warning, so both Geralt and Eskel were keeping a wary eye on the sky to the north and west.  Ciri continued asking questions about their surroundings, how was Eskel tracking where they were going, how could they tell they were going the right way, why did the townspeople take goats up into the mountains..?  Eskel bore the questions with good humor, letting the Wolf ride mostly in silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt had found a bit of balance, after the emotional storm he’d struggled with in Mirt, and listened in on the chatter, quietly amused at the never-ending questions.  Here, under the sun, with Eskel’s rumble patiently answering Ciri, things felt...almost right.  Which of course meant he was on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop, the whole four days they traveled.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was riding ahead when he spotted Aedd Gynvael in the distance, and stopped to focus his vision, looking for anything out of the ordinary - smoke trails, dust clouds, birds - and saw nothing unusual.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel, catching up with Ciri on Scorpion with him, chuckled quietly.  “We’re far far north, Wolf.  S’not like Henselt would put up with Nilfgaard sending hordes of scouts up into his territory.  We’ll be watchful, and careful, but we should be able to stop.  Maybe for two days?  Get all our things cleaned before we head up into the mountains.  And see about getting Ciri some proper mountain gear.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt rolled his shoulders, trying to fight back the unease still crawling along his spine, and nodded.  “Two days.  If we’ve the coin for it, she needs gear for proper weather.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve coin, Wolf.  Since I cut my time on the Path short, I don’t mind spending it on our cub,” Eskel murmured, ruffling Ciri’s hair.  Clucking to Scorpion, they moved past Geralt and started down the path to Aedd Gynvael.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Making a little noise in his throat, somewhere between agreement and disgruntlement, Geralt nudged Roach to follow after them.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finding room in an inn was easy, they were even able to get a room with a small sitting room and two attached sleeping rooms.  It came with a pretty secure lock as well, so Eskel and Geralt left their bags there, though both kept what weapons they had.  A Witcher on the Path was never really off duty.  Once they were there, though, and relatively un-packed, Ciri was practically bouncing by the door.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wolf!  Will you go shopping with me?”  Eskel had passed her a small pouch of coin, to buy a few things that she might need that neither Witcher would think of, and she was excited to go.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt made a face and sighed.  “Fine.  But we have to take Roach to a farrier first, if they have one, or a blacksmith.  Fairly sure she’s about to throw a shoe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel caught the Wolf’s attention with a gesture, and tossed a pouch of coin to him as well.  “For Roach.  And dinner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Catching the purse with a grimace, gratitude warring with the guilt of needing to use Eskel’s coin, Geralt nodded.  “Meet back here for dinner then,” he sighed, and followed the eager pre-teen out the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel waited until they were gone and counted through what he had left.  Enough to pick up a few necessary winter supplies for Ciri, which she wouldn’t need yet. Hopefully, he also had enough to get his Wolf at least a simple leather cuirass and a silvered sword, if he could find one.  It bothered him, travelling with a Witcher whose gear was missing.  It was unusual for one of them to be out of kit for long enough for it to matter - generally, an unequipped Witcher was a dead Witcher.  Slipping his swords back on, Eskel set out for the market.  Aedd Gynvael wasn’t Ard Carriagh, it was smaller and less well visited, but it was still close enough to Kaer Morhen to have a blacksmith and farrier. It didn’t have smiths specializing in armor and weapons, just the one blacksmith, but the smith was a pretty good one. He knew that his friend had an extra sword or two at the keep that would serve better for a season on the path, and was just out to get something so that the Wolf had both tools of the trade at hand for the path up.  There weren’t enough of them anymore to keep the area around Kaer Morhen clear of monsters, not that they’d ever kept the trail completely clear, and Eskel would rather go up knowing that the White Wolf would be able to have his back properly.  Being able to put aside the worry that the Wolf wouldn’t be able to injure an opponent, or be caught by something that armor could have prevented would make this a lot better.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finding winter gear for Ciri was fairly easy this close to the Blue Mountains.  Boots, several pairs of thick socks, a proper coat, and heavier trousers and tunics, since she seemed to prefer dressing as a boy.  Finding a sword for his Wolf proved more difficult, but he did manage to find a decent sword.  Bringing it by the blacksmith, who was working on a shoe for Roach (though Ciri and the Wolf were nowhere in sight), the smith promised he could put a good silvered edge on it.  The man also had a decent set of simple armor that Eskel thought would probably fit his friend, so he bought that as well.  The smith set the armor by Roach, and said he would have the sword done the next day, so Eskel headed back to the inn.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Meanwhile, Ciri had waited impatiently for the White Wolf to drop Roach off with the blacksmith, and then all but dragged the Witcher into the market.  ‘Stoic’, Jaskier had called the Witcher, ‘wears too much black’, and Ciri agreed.  She’d pick up some things she needed (like a decent comb and some hair ties), but she really wanted to see if she could get the Wolf into a colored shirt.  She’d sorted the laundry, she knew exactly how many shirts the Witcher had. Pulling her guardian into the first store she saw that looked like it carried things that would fit the Wolf’s frame, and felt the Witcher balk behind her.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Wolf,” she griped at the Wolf, tugging at their arm.  It felt a little bit like trying to drag a tree, to be honest.  “You don’t have any good shirts left.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The look she got for that was distinctly flat.  “I’m fine,” came the rumbled response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One.  Pick one.  Not black,” she added, and gestured towards the already made shirts that the tailor had hanging.  She went to the counter to speak with the woman behind it quietly, remembering things her grandmother had put in her room just a few months before...well.  Before.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt eyed his charge and sighed, recognizing the stubborn line of her spine.  He’d seen that sort of look before, out of Calanthe.  Grumbling under his breath, he moved over to the small selection of shirts, unsure what to pick.  He didn’t wear colors, really.  It felt...wrong?  Not because he didn’t like pretty things, but because - Geralt cut that line of thought off, shying away from the anxiety crawling back up his spine.  For Ciri, he could pick something.  There was a blue... but it reminded him of Jaskier’s eyes.  No.  Red was Eskel’s color, so he passed by that as well.  There was a green, a nice deep green, not too bright, that reminded him of the forests around Kaer Morhen.  He could live with green. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tailor, having finished with Ciri at the desk, came over to see what he was looking at.  “Ah, green.  I believe that one should fit you.  Let me see?”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt handed the shirt over wordlessly, expecting and receiving a slight flinch from the tailor when the woman took in his eyes and the wolf medallion on his chest. Bravely, she held the shirt up to his shoulders.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm, yes.  I won’t need to let it out at all.  Shall I add it to the purchases?”  She looked between Geralt and Ciri, and smiled at the girl when Ciri nodded.  “Wonderful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt just sighed again.  “You could have saved your coin,” he told the girl, as she picked up her package.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted to see you in color, Wolf.  You’ll look pretty, I think,” she added, walking along with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty,” he said flatly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”  Looking up at him, she gave him a little smile.  “It’s okay... Ei..My.. my grandfather liked to wear bright colors.  He said that a person should feel pretty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had to look away from her eyes, one hand fisting against his thigh.  The feel of his nails biting into his palm helped push back the whine rising in the back of his head again.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pretty</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t for Witchers.  Pretty especially wasn’t for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri reached up and caught his other wrist, the right one, startling him into looking at her again.  “I could use handsome, if you don’t like the word pretty, Wolf.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could see the uncertainty and hint of sadness in her eyes, and sighed again.  “It’s a nice shirt, cub.  Thank you.”  The whine was still there, tension riding high, but for now, for her, he could ignore it.  The smile she gave him in return made his heart hurt, and he was relieved to see the inn.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri let go of him to run in, looking for Eskel, and Geralt took a moment to breathe before following her in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel looked up as Ciri called out to him from the door of the inn, smiling at her as the girl approached.  “Good shopping trip, cub?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.  Wolf picked out a green shirt.  It’s really dark, but it’s still a color.”  She sat down at the table with him, putting her purchases next to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flicking his eyes back to the door, not seeing his Wolf following her in.  “Green is still a color, that’s true.  Where is the Wolf?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm?”  Turning her head, the girl looked back at the door with a little frown.  “We were together, just right outside...oh, there,” she said with relief as the door opened again, the Wolf’s form silhouetted in the late afternoon sun as the other Witcher entered the inn.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was too much tension in his Wolf’s shoulders, Eskel noted, and the furrow between those gold eyes was deeper, the eyes themselves pinched a bit.  Another attack, maybe, Eskel thought, trying to keep the worry off his face.  For the Wolf to be anxious again - Eskel hadn’t seen his friend this worked up in decades.  Nearly a century, in fact.  Once the Wolf was at the table, Eskel gave his friend a very frank appraisal.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Want to eat in the room, Wolf?”  Maybe out of the noise, his Wolf would relax a little.  Getting a brief nod in return, Eskel patted Ciri on the shoulder.  “Come on, cub, let’s go get dinner ordered.  Go on up, Wolf.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt slipped away from them both, heading up to the rooms they’d claimed.  The whining was creeping back up his spine, making the back of his head prickle, as though his hair hurt.  Pretty, Ciri had said.  You deserve to feel pretty.  Clenching his hands, absently feeling his nails bite into his palms, he stalked through the small sitting room into the room he and Eskel would be using to sleep.  Pretty, a voice taunted in his mind.  Pretty trainee, pretty Witcher. Movement out of the corner of his eye startled him and he turned, silently snarling, and lashed out at the intruder, rocking backwards at the sudden sharp pain in his hand.  Shards of mirror slipped out of the frame, crunching against the floor, other pieces embedded in his knuckles.  Him, it was just </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, his reflection.  Pretty Witcher, his mind whispered, and Geralt made a little noise, dropping to his knees and pressing his forehead to the floor.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel balanced the dinner tray as Ciri opened the door to the room, happily chattering to him about the various stalls she’d seen in the marketplace.  Half a step in the room, he stopped, tensing, as the scent of blood and overwhelming panic hit his nose.  Shit, he’d been </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Another attack. Carefully setting down the tray, Eskel caught Ciri’s shoulder, stopping her mid-sentence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cub, I need you to take your dinner into the bedroom, all right?”  He focused on her, willing her to trust him and not ask questions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Biting her lower lip, Ciri collected her plate and mug, looking up at him.  “...W..Why?  Uncle Eskel..”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wolf’s not feeling well, and I need to help, all right?” he murmured quietly.  “You still have your dagger?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri nodded, eyes widening.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good.  I’ll come see you, we can go over some drills later,” he added, managing to smile slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She relaxed at the smile, nodding again.  “Okay.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel waited until she’d closed the bedroom door behind her, then turned towards the other room with a hint of trepidation.  Last time the Wolf had suffered attacks like this so close together was just after the Trials.  Just after the Wolf had come back in a body that was as alien to Eskel as it clearly was to his friend.  Quietly, he slipped into the other room, and heard something crunch under his foot just inside.  Eyes flicking down, then around, he took in the scene: the Wolf curled over, fine tremors wracking their frame, fists buried in their hair, the knuckles of one hand bleeding with little shards peppering the skin, and under Eskel’s boot and on the wall by the door, a broken mirror.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he breathed, and shifted carefully, trying to brush the broken glass aside with his foot.  “Wolf?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hunched form on the floor didn’t react, still trembling, breath coming in little harsh pants.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Eskel muttered again, and knelt down beside his friend.  “Wolf.  Vi.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vi</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he repeated, reaching out towards the shaking body.  “Breathe, Vi, please...”  He didn’t want to have to Axii his friend, but he remembered the trainers doing it when the Wolf was young, using it to get the trainee Witcher to relax enough to hear them.  Watching his friend closely, Eskel carefully settled a hand on the top of the Wolf’s head, and just started talking.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just us here.  Ciri’s eating dinner, in her room.  You and I are here, she can’t hear you.  Breathe with me, Vi.  Like we used to, to practice meditation.”  He’d never felt so helpless before.  He knew what kind of demons rode his friend’s mind, tormented the Wolf, and it was nothing Eskel could help fight.  He slowed his breathing, dipping into a half-meditative state, willing his friend to hear him, to breathe with him. He didn’t stroke the Wolf’s head, just rested it gently on the top of his head.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It felt like forever, until the sharp panting started to ease, the rapid beat of his friend’s heart slowly beginning to drop back to a more normal, Witcher-slow rate.  “Good,” he murmured.  “Just breathe with me.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After another ten minutes or so, the Wolf shifted slightly, turning a little under Eskel’s hand.  “...‘Skel..” they rasped out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘M here, Wolf.  Can you... will you sit up?  Let me tend your hand?” He wasn’t sure if bringing up the mirror would push his friend back over, but he did know that the shards of mirror had to come out before the other Witcher’s skin healed over them.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A shudder ran down the Wolf’s spine, and Eskel moved his hand away as his friend slowly pushed upright to lean against the end of the bed.  The injured hand was offered, though the Wolf wouldn’t meet his eyes, looking away.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking his friend’s hand carefully, Eskel settled the injured appendage on his thigh and began carefully picking out broken glass. He continued to try and breathe slow, meditative breaths, hearing the Wolf follow suit.  After a moment, he spoke, keeping his voice quiet.  “What happened, Wolf?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His friend shuddered, and then finally answered in a raspy voice, “Saw...reflection.  Thought it was...”  and the Wolf trailed off, eyes closing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“..Fuck.”  Eskel knew where that statement was going.  Early on, after the change, the Wolf had struggled to recognize their new reflection.  “...Fuck, Wolf... We need to get you back to safety too, not just Ciri.  Or maybe we should head for Mother Nennenke?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” the Wolf growled, pulling away from Eskel now that the glass was cleaned out of their hand.  “No, cub to Kaer Morhen.  Has to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel let go immediately, knowing from the past how easy it would be to tip the Wolf back over into that panicked state.  “Easy.  Okay.  One more day here, Wolf.  Rest for now, and we’ll leave day after tomorrow, push on to the keep.  She’ll be safe.  And then...”  he trailed off, unsure if it would be wise to suggest trying to contact one of the sorceresses the Wolf knew to try and get the armlet removed.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As his Wolf started dragging himself up to the bed, Eskel stood, trying not to hover while remaining on hand to help, should his friend fall.  “You should eat-” he started, only to be cut off by a little nauseated whine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t.  No,” came the muffled rasp as the Wolf collapsed onto the bed.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel sighed and pulled the Wolf’s boots off, draping a heavy blanket across his friend’s back. “All right.  I’ll save the bread for you, if you wake up hungry in the middle of the night.  Get some rest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morning came early, and Eskel had struggled to meditate out in the sitting room.  He spent most of the night fretting over his Wolf’s slide, worrying how this would affect the rest of the trip.  Noise from the room that he had been prepared to share with the Wolf brought him up from the light meditation he was in.  Looking up, he caught his friend’s eyes as the other Witcher stumbled out of the room.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grimacing, he raked a hand through his hair.  “Wolf, you look like shit,” he grumbled.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Wolf shook his head, shuffling over to the small table and taking a seat.  “Feel like it,” came the raspy response.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel stood, stretched, and then joined the Wolf at the table.  “...Wolf...” he started.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His Wolf interrupted with a sharp hand motion.  “Save it,” they grunted.  “We just.  We just need to get there.  Once she’s safe, then.  Then...”  their voice trailed off, clearly unable to picture what could come after.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel couldn’t stop himself, he reached out and gripped his Wolf’s left bicep, where he knew that cursed piece of metal lay.  The Wolf flinched at the touch, meeting Eskel’s eyes with gold ones gone dull.  “Then we </span>
  <em>
    <span>fix</span>
  </em>
  <span> this,” Eskel bit out.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Footsteps sounded from Ciri’s room, and the Wolf jerked away from Eskel’s grasp, looking away and out the small window.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt focused on his breathing, trying to keep it steady and slow, pushing down the leftover nausea and exhaustion so he wouldn’t alarm Ciri.  Looking over as she entered the little sitting room, he managed a little smile which apparently wasn’t terribly reassuring as she didn’t smile back.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wolf, are you... Are you okay?”  She twisted her hands in the hem of the tunic she’d put on this morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sighing, he let the smile drop.  “I’ll be fine, Ciri.  It’s... an old injury that comes up every so often.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel made a little disgruntled noise, shooting a scowl at him, and Geralt twitched an eyebrow back.  No, he wasn’t going to explain this to Ciri, the Wolf’s expression said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” she breathed, and came over in a little rush, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him.  “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt couldn’t fight the little flinch as she touched him, but hugged her back, patting her gently.  “We have one last day here, is there anything more you need?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel caught the flinch and made a little face at Geralt over Ciri’s shoulder.  “Come on cub, I have winter gear for you to try on,” he told the girl, standing and going to one of the bags he’d brought in.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri made a little noise and nodded, letting Geralt go after one more hug and headed over to join Eskel.  “Mm, I got the things I needed, I think.  At least what I could remember.  And the lady at the tailoring shop helped me out too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt took a moment to try to regather himself after she let go.  Gods, everything hurt this morning, even his hair. Eskel was probably correct, he hadn’t dissociated like that in decades, and two attacks so close together - his mind shied away from the thought, even as his right hand slipped up to grip his bicep.  He could remember, clear as the day before, when the heads of the school had given him the choice: wear the armlet, become Geralt, become a </span>
  <em>
    <span>proper</span>
  </em>
  <span> Witcher... or leave the school in the clothes he was wearing. He’d accepted the armlet, bowed to the trainers’ insistence that this was the only way to be a Witcher, the only way to move forward.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Pretty little Witcher,</span>
  </em>
  <span> his mind reminded him, the voice that of the head mage, and his hand spasmed on his arm, fingers digging in hard.  The sudden pain startled him back to the present, and he found that thankfully, little time had passed.  Eskel and Ciri were still going through the winter gear and extra clothing that his friend (his </span>
  <em>
    <span>best</span>
  </em>
  <span> friend) had managed to acquire.  He watched them, feeling a pool of almost hurt, and warmth settle into his chest as Eskel grinned and ruffled Ciri’s hair.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have to go in a little and collect Roach from the blacksmith.  Should I pick up lunch?” He was reluctant to break into the moment that his friend and child surprise were having, but there were things to handle, and getting out might give him something else to focus on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel turned, still smiling, eyes lit up with good humor, glowing amber in the light from the window.  “I’m good, Wolf.  Make sure you pick up </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> the smith has, all right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A pang of quiet, sorrow-tinged attraction and emotion shot through Geralt, and he pushed it down with practiced ease.  Raising an eyebrow at his friend, he headed for the door.  “What did you do, ‘Skel?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, just some really basic gear.  In case we run into anything on the way up,” the other Witcher replied with a chuckle.  “Nothing major, Wolf.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Geralt grumbled, but his heart wasn’t in it.  With his mind not obeying him, having some protection was a good idea.  Heading out into the town, he left the two of them behind in the inn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri waited for a while, until she and Eskel were mostly done going through the things he’d bought and she was pretty sure the Wolf had made it out of the inn, then turned on the other Witcher with serious concern on her face.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uncle Eskel, what’s going on with Wolf?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel startled a little, and then gave her a dismayed look.  “Ciri...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s no way this happens all the time, Wolf would have been killed by now,” she added, scowling at him.  “And I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>worried</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed and sat back on his heels.  “Wolf...told the truth.  Mostly.  Something happened a long time ago, and the memories are being pulled back up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chewing on her lower lip, she studied him.  “...Why...why now?  What happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel winced, and looked down at his hands.  “I can’t tell you that, cub.  It’s not my story to tell. And don’t argue, I’m not going to break and spill.  You have to ask Wolf.  Although,” he murmured, looking back up at her, suddenly thoughtful.  “Why do you say ‘Wolf’ instead of Geralt?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blinked at him, then shrugged.  “Jaskier never used ‘Geralt’, always the White Wolf, or Wolf.  And never said ‘he’ or ‘him’, just...Witcher.  And I said Geralt once, and the Wolf flinched. So I stopped.  Does that...does it have something to do with that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sighing, he nodded.  “Something like.  Just keep doing like you’re doing, cub,” he chuckled, and reached out to ruffle her hair.  “You’re pretty wise for a kid, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That got a little blush out of her and she pushed at his hand.  “S’just... Eist always said that what people did and said was more than what their outsides were.  Some Skelligers came once, and there was a warrior - the guards thought he was a girl, but Eist said no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Skelligers are good like that,” Eskel agreed.  “Come on.  Let’s get laundry done, and then I’ll show you some basic alchemy, all right?  We’ll make sure we’ve got all the supplies we need.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The three of them spent a mostly restful day stocking up on supplies, collecting Roach and the armor and sword Eskel had arranged.  The following morning, they were up before dawn, a sleepy Ciri up in front of Geralt on Roach, Scorpion and Eskel leading the way with an extra saddlebag with their cub’s new things.  They switched off when they stopped for lunch, so they wouldn’t over-work one horse, and stopped when it started getting dark and had a nice little campsite for the night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Surprisingly, for late summer almost early fall, the weather stayed good for the entire trip.  Mornings were cool, and sometimes a little damp, but it never properly rained, and they made good time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri was riding with Geralt again as they came around the bend that hid Kaer Morhen’s door from view, and he was pleased by her quiet gasp.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a bit of a ruin,” he murmured, smiling a little, “But it’s still home.  Welcome to Kaer Morhen, Ciri.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Things come to a head for the Wolf.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNINGS: Tags come into play majorly in this chapter and the next, in serious ways.  I cannot provide skips for it as it will invalidate the chapters.  Self-harm comes into play in Chapter Five, and there is serious panic in this one.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Having Ciri at Kaer Morhen was both better and worse than Geralt had anticipated.  She was finally relaxing, able to be a child for just a little longer again, although they all knew she was suffering from nightmares.  Vesemir had started training her, teaching her the basics of the bestiary and running her through some basic exercises and sword training.  Geralt was relieved to see that no one was treating her as they had the Witcher trainees. Eskel wouldn’t ever, he knew that, but he’d...he’d worried.  Vesemir had trained </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, after all.  And while he’d been kinder than the rest, well.  Geralt had still worried.  Was still worried.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel had gotten a head start on repairs for the winter, and Geralt was keeping an eye on Ciri and Vesemir as the latter walked the former through some sword drills using a training dummy.  The days were getting shorter and colder as fall marched inexorably towards winter, and it was likely that snow would start up in the mountains soon.  Ciri was wisely bundled up for working outside, though Vesemir, Eskel, and Geralt were all just in their normal keep wear - gambesons, tunics, and trousers.  Theoretically, Geralt should be up on the wall with Eskel, helping with repairs, but he found himself reluctant to let Ciri out of his sight while she was training.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A little cheer from the courtyard below drew his attention back, and he noticed that Ciri had managed to knock the helm off the training dummy and was celebrating.  Vesemir allowed it, chuckling along, then shooed her off with a little swat from his wooden training blade to go collect the helm and return it to its place. She went, laughing, unaware of Geralt up in the higher courtyard tensing up at the hint of violence.  Geralt reminded himself again and again that she was laughing.  She wasn’t hurt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hand came down on his shoulder and he startled badly, turning to see Eskel looking at him with worry.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where were you, Wolf?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt took a breath and shuddered, then shook his head.  “It...Just... Remembering.  But she’s not.  Vesemir won’t-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, no.  She can train a bit like we did and learn the skills a Witcher knows, but she’s not you, Wolf.  She’s safe.”  Eskel took his hand away.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Managing a little smile for his - for Eskel, Geralt nodded.   “Yeah.  Safe.”  He took another breath, and tried to relax his shoulders.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel nodded and smiled at him.  “Come on, help me get this section finished.  Snow’ll be here soon, and Lambert after that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grumbling under his breath, Geralt sighed and followed Eskel back to the section he’d been working on earlier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Time continued passing.  Ciri got better at swordplay, picking it up quicker than any of the Witchers had really expected.  Eskel pulled Vesemir aside after a few weeks to warn the elder of the Wolf’s increasing attacks and mental slips, just in time for Geralt to suffer through another one in the middle of the day while Eskel was training with Ciri. Vesemir had coached the pup through that one, and later passed a xenovox to Eskel with a long, serious look.  They both knew that the Wolf couldn’t go on like this.  Sooner or later, something would snap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they woke to the first snowfall dusting the courtyards in white, Ciri was delighted, and the three Witchers started taking turns watching the path for their missing brother.  It was Eskel who spotted the splash of red against the snow as Lambert rounded the first visible bend, and he grinned and went to let the rest know to expect the youngest wolf by nightfall.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure enough, just as Vesemir was setting out dinner, Lambert shoved into the main keep along with a billow of snow.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel promptly clobbered his youngest brother with a giant hug come headlock.  “Welcome home, little wolf!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get </span>
  <em>
    <span>off</span>
  </em>
  <span> you asshole,” Lambert growled and shoved at Eskel, then dug an elbow into his side.  “Fuck, why are you here so early?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slipping up next to the pair of them, Geralt snagged Lambert by the back of his gambeson and pulled him close in a brief hug, touching foreheads before pushing him away with a half smile.  “Long story, Lambert.  We came up together.  With.. well.”  He turned and gestured to the table, where Ciri was waiting with Vesemir, her eyes wide. “My child of surprise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> you absolute wanker,” the red-head hissed, and shoved at Geralt.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lambert,” came the quiet, authoritative voice of Vesemir.  “This is Princess Cirilla of Cintra.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri wrinkled her nose a little at the introduction, but bobbed a half curtsey.  “Just Ciri.  And.  And I’m glad to be here, really.  I didn’t...I don’t have anywhere else to go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cintra,” Lambert said flatly, then sighed and pushed past his brothers to drop his things inside the door.  “Fuck.  Leave it to you, White Wolf, to end up in the middle of something so complicated.”  He flopped into a seat at the table and eyed the girl.  “Guess you’re the youngest wolf now, kiddo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt’s steps hitched and he faltered to a stop on his way back. Eskel stopped too, and sighed, bumping his fist lightly against the Wolf’s shoulder.  “We call her cub, seeing as she’s the Lion Cub of Cintra,” Eskel informed Lambert.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cub.  All right.  ‘Spose you aren’t going to be a Witcher, anyway.”  Lambert reached for a roll as Eskel and Vesemir took their seats.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not?” Ciri asked, looking between the Witchers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope.  Can’t make more.  Wolf school never took girls anyway,” was Lambert’s reply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt, who had just sat down at the table, made a little noise in his throat, hand clenching around his mug hard enough that the wood of it protested with a creaking noise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh...” she murmured, looking from Lambert to Vesemir, and then over to the Wolf, who was staring down at the plate.  Frowning, a look of confusion on her face, she looked over at Eskel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel shook his head.  “Anyway.  How was the season, Lambert?”  Yes, change the subject, quickly.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lambert launched into a story about a rusalka that had been tormenting a village in Kovir, and the rather convoluted method he’d had to go through to get rid of her, as it turned out she was the result of a curse, as opposed to a normal rusalka.  Ciri listened raptly, asking questions about the creature, and why it was different, and slowly the air at the table relaxed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vesemir kept an eye on his pups and the new cub as dinner progressed, noting that while the Wolf did finally relax enough to eat, they still picked at their food.  Eskel kept Lambert talking about the season, keeping Ciri’s attention occupied and off the white-haired Witcher.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was worried.  The Wolf was thin, thinner than they should be, and Vesemir noticed faint trembles in the pup’s hands.  Eskel had been right to pull him aside once they’d arrived.  The cub was too close to what had been, and her presence was shoving the past into the front of all of their minds, not just the Wolf’s.  That said, it was clear they were  going to have to take action with or without the Wolf’s approval.  Before his pup’s mind shattered completely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gold eyes caught his, and he tipped his head towards the kitchen, then rose and began collecting dirty dishes.  “Come, White Wolf, we’ll get started on the dishes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All right,” the Wolf sighed, though there was a wary acceptance in those eyes.  Clearly, the Wolf suspected this was more of an excuse to talk.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt helped gather the dishes, leaving the tankards and rolls, and headed for the kitchen ahead of Vesemir.  He knew what the old wolf wanted.  He’d caught the worry, caught Vesemir and Eskel talking quietly.  Dumping the dishes into the wash bowl, he curled his hands around the edge of it, leaning on it for support. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wolf,” came the quiet voice behind him, and Vesemir set the dishes he was carrying down on the scarred tabletop next to the basin.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just.  Let it be, Vesemir.”  Tired, he was so tired.  He’d accepted this fate long ago, nearly eight decades, and it was what it was.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, pup, I can’t do that.”  Vesemir sounded tired as well, and sad.  “It’s enough, pup.  Time to let it go.  Be yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt shuddered, hands tightening down on the edge of the basin.  “Ves-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Wolf.  This is enough, it’s been long enough.”  Reaching out, he put a hand on the Wolf’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt twitched, flinching away from the touch as much as his mind shied away from the thought.  “...L-leave it,” he rasped, heart rate picking up, like thunder in his ears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Vi,” Vesemir said gently.  “Come back.  You know a sorceress or two, let us contact-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Leave it!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The cry was ripped out of him, though quiet and hoarse.  Geralt shoved away from the washing basin and stumbled out of the kitchen, heading up to his room.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vesemir watched the Wolf go, and stared at the slowly closing door until a quiet noise behind him caught his attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I take it that didn’t go well,” Eskel commented from the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Vesemir sighed.  “No it didn’t go well at all.  Eskel...can you reach any of the sorceresses the Wolf knows?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can try.  I think Wolf has a Xenovox from Yennefer somewhere.  I’ll see if I can find it, and I’ll go check on them.”  Eskel clapped Vesemir on the shoulder as he went by. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Watching Eskel follow the Wolf up the stairs reminded Vesemir of when they were young, before the trials.  Inseparable, the pair of them.  Vi had pulled Eskel out of his shell, helped him find some self-confidence.  And Eskel - Eskel had always treated Vi as though she belonged.  As though she truly was a Witcher trainee, without any doubt or questions. The number of fights that boy had gotten into with other trainees over Vi, the number of times other trainers had given him extra work for talking back...  Vesemir had pulled him aside finally and explained that Eskel wasn’t actually helping, arguing with the trainers, the other trainees.  The young witcher-to-be hadn’t understood, had argued with him, even, but Vesemir eventually got through, pointing out that while the trainers were lumping more work on Eskel because of his back talking, they were truly taking it out on Vi. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Keep your head down, so you can stay at her side,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d told the boy.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A sudden spark of laughter from the dining hall pulled him back to the present, and he shook his head, returning to the hall to see that Lambert was clearly regaling Ciri with some sort of story from the past.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Wolf school never took girls anyway, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his mind reminded him, and he sighed, heading for his chair by the fire.  Fuck, they should have told Lambert ages ago, but the Wolf was stubborn and hadn’t wanted to bring it up.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>What’s the point?</span>
  </em>
  <span> They’d said.  This time... this time he couldn’t let it go though.  Not with how obvious the mental deterioration was to those that knew the Wolf.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey old man,” Lambert called out, joining him over by the fire.  “Where’d the other two get to?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri trailed the youngest wolf over, and shot a glance towards the kitchen where both Witchers she’d traveled up with had vanished to.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vesemir sighed, wishing again that Lambert knew, and shook his head.  “Up to bed already.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lambert frowned and looked to the kitchen.  “Both of them?  Or just Geralt?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Startled, he looked up at the youngest wolf.  “Ah..”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lambert looked back at him, jaw tightening.  “Just Geralt, huh?  I’ve got eyes, Vesemir.  The White Wolf looks like shit, and from what Eskel and Ciri here were saying, they’ve been here long enough it’s not fatigue from the path.  What’s going on?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ciri sighed.  “Vesemir won’t tell me, and Eskel won’t either.  But </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> is wrong, and it started before we got here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go on up to bed, Cub,” Vesemir grumbled, and leaned forwards and ruffled her hair.  “You have training early tomorrow, and I need to talk to Lambert about getting him into your training rotation anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled and bounced forwards to give Vesemir a hug, then trotted off to go up to her room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as Lambert heard her footsteps clattering up the stairs and figured she was out of hearing range, he flung himself into the chair opposite the old wolf.  “So what’s going on...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vesemir shook his head.  “It’s not my story to tell, Lambert.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Growling under his breath, Lambert kicked his legs out and hooked one ankle over the other.  “So Eskel, who is the one who gets the least flustered, is worried sick about something, probably Geralt.  Geralt looks like complete horse shit, the kid is trying to not be worried while getting trained, and you won’t tell me shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lambert,” Vesemir growled back at him.  “It’s not my story.  And I have argued about this with Eskel and the Wolf in the past.  I’d like you to work with Ciri on swordwork.  Teach her some of that fancy stuff you picked up from your Cat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bristling at the mention of Aiden, Lambert shifted in the chair.  Vesemir held up a hand before he could speak.  “Peace, little Wolf.  I told you last year, your Cat is welcome here if you can get him to come.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll.  I asked him.  This year.  He said he’d try to make it.”  Lambert hoped he could.  He wanted to spend winter with Aiden in the keep, especially with whatever was going on with the older set of Witchers.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then we’ll keep the watches.  He knows the path?” Vesemir asked, looking tired.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lambert stood and pushed a hand through his hair, which was falling out of the waxed hold it was in during the day.  “I made sure he knew the way. I would have waited for him, but he said he had to stop at the Caravan first, and told me to go ahead.  Warn you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Warning given.  Go,” Vesemir told him with a faint smile.  “Welcome home, pup.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Over the next few days, Lambert slipped into the new winter schedule like there wasn’t anything different or new.  A Witcher was on the walls watching the path for the Cat, one of them was training with Ciri, and the other two would be working on seasonal repairs before the real snows of winter set in.  There was a lot to do, as always, and never time for any more long conversations about what was, or wasn’t happening.  They had roofing to replace, the ever-present gap in the western wall that crumbled a little more every year to try and fix, hunting to do, and supplies to stockpile.  Lambert had taken on more training with Ciri, Vesemir’s suggestion of teaching her Cat tricks a useful one.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt was with Eskel, up on the wall, combining watching the path with some repair work, while Lambert and Ciri worked in the courtyard below.  Geralt was silently working, as he hadn’t been sleeping well since Lambert had arrived.  Today it seemed Eskel was going to let him get away without speaking, though between him and Vesemir, the two of them had been quietly, but firmly, making their opinions known.  Which wasn’t helping Geralt sleep.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He scowled down at the stone in his hand, squashing the urge to just howl and chuck it as hard as he could.  It wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> help anything, and then Vesemir and Eskel would be after him to talk about it more.  He was sick to </span>
  <em>
    <span>death</span>
  </em>
  <span> of talking.  Why did it even </span>
  <em>
    <span>matter</span>
  </em>
  <span>, this was just the way things were, and -</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A sudden cry of pain from the courtyard sent his heart into his throat and he flung himself off the wall before the sound had even died off, running for Ciri.  He slid to a halt next to his cub, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>daughter</span>
  </em>
  <span>, who had tears on her face and her left wrist curled up against her chest.  Lambert was kneeling in front of her, one hand out, and a rather dumbfounded look on his face as he stared up at Geralt.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What - Ciri, are you -” and then it hit him.  The smell of blood. Gorge rose in Geralt’s throat, and he staggered back a few steps.  No.  No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>NO</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she was supposed to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Safe.  With a raspy noise of horror, he turned and fled.  Away, anywhere but here, as the memories surged back up out of the boxes he’d locked them into, old wounds, old bruises, old words boiling up, borne on the scent of blood and tears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel startled and dropped his trowel when Ciri cried out and the Wolf flung themselves off the wall at a dead run in her direction.  He put the rest of his kit down and hopped down after, following along at a slower pace.  It hadn’t sounded </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> serious?  Rounding the corner into the main courtyard, he flattened himself back against the wall as the Wolf bolted past him, pale as death, pupils blown, the scent of panic trailing behind them.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell?” Lambert shouted after the rather rapidly vanishing form of the Wolf, and Eskel frowned after his friend, then looked over at the cub and Lambert.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” he asked, going over and crouching next to Ciri, absently catching sight of Vesemir exiting the main door of the keep.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I.. I just.. I tripped.  I think I just landed wrong on my wrist?”  the girl said, hesitantly, eyes wide and startled.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lambert gently caught her hand, checking the movement of her fingers and wrist.  “Sprain, I think.  Vesemir can confirm, get it wrapped for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel nodded, then frowned a little.  “Ah...cub?  Why do you... Are you bleeding?  Skinned knee, palm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vesemir snorted quietly as he approached, and Ciri turned bright red, looked down at her lap and muttered something so garbled not even a Witcher could catch it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lambert sniffed the air, looked at her hand, looked at her expression, and snorted as well.  “Fuck, Eskel.  She’s a lady now is all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he said, ears going red as he got it.  He paled, abruptly, turning to look where the Wolf had run to.  “Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vesemir helped Ciri up, and scowled at Lambert and Eskel.  “Go.  Quickly. Find the Wolf.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?  Ow,” Lambert growled at Eskel as the bigger Witcher latched onto his shoulder and started dragging him towards the gate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eskel turned wild eyes on Lambert.  “Lambert, just.  Fucking trust me on this, we need to find the Wolf, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>fast</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This has to do with why he looks like shit, doesn’t it,” the red-head stated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I’m right, which I really hope I’m not, you’re about to get that answered,” Eskel told him soberly, and gave him a shove towards the left.  “I’ll go right, you go left.  Call out as soon as you find the Wolf.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The past gets revealed, and the Wolf begins to get the help they need.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Self-harm and panic at the beginning of this chapter!  This is the one where pretty much all the tags come in to play.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Geralt ran, voices hissing and taunting him from his memories, ran until he tripped on something and fell, rolling and sliding down a small hill of shale and other rocks until he fetched up against a small outcropping looking down a deep gorge.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Useless girl, </span>
  </em>
  <span>said his memories.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wolf school never made female Witchers, and never will.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Gasping for breath, feeling as though something was crushing him, he fumbled for the knife at his hip.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Come back, Vi. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Vesemir’s voice.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your choice, </span>
    <strong>girl</strong>
    <span>.  Leave as you are, or put it on.  Become a </span>
  </em>
  <span>proper </span>
  <em>
    <span>Witcher.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>The head mage, holding out a black ring, big enough to fit an arm.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pain, pain, and blood, and just...</span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Skin pulling, stretching, body the wrong shape, wrong size, wrong everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Welcome, Geralt. </span>
  </em>
  <span>A cold nasty smile.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>If you take it off... you’ll die.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Off, off, if not </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span> then the arm.  Or die trying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert trotted through the underbrush.  Geralt hadn’t tried to cover his trail, really.  He’d just...run.  And the smell of panic just got stronger. He paused briefly, frowning, then swore, picking up a scent of blood, and sped up.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt?  Geralt!”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coming around a bend above a small shale slide, he stopped short, gaping at the sight.  Geralt, fetched up against a rock, with his knife dug into the meat of his bicep, just below the shoulder.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Eskel, ESKEL!” he yelled, shoving two fingers into his mouth and blowing the short three blast whistle to alert the other Witcher to his location.  Carefully, so he didn’t fall, he slipped and slid his way down the fall of rocks until he got to the white-haired Witcher.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he gasped out, voice coming out higher than he really wanted it to.  He wrapped his hand around the White Wolf’s wrist, the other around his back, grabbing the shoulder, trying to keep him from digging the knife in deeper.  “Stop, fuck, stop.”  Where the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> was Eskel!?  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s eyes were glassy, pupils blown, and he wasn’t responding to Lambert at all, seemingly locked inside his own mind and hellbent on removing his own arm.  What the hell had happened this season?  Geralt had always been standoffish, quiet, grouchy.  But Lambert had never suspected the White Wolf was harboring this much raw panic and...grief?  Despair?  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hate</span>
  </em>
  <span>... there was no mistaking that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lambert!”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert twisted to look up the rock fall, trying to catch a glimpse of Eskel without letting go of Geralt’s wrist and shoulder.  “Eskel!  Down here, fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurry</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Small rocks heralded the start of Eskel’s descent, and the bigger Witcher slid down mostly on his ass, far less graceful on the shale, but controlled all the same.  He sucked in a sharp breath as he arrived at Lambert’s side, and Lambert growled at him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Do</span>
  </em>
  <span> something, Eskel, he’s stronger than I am and I really don’t want to break his fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>hand</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel made a little wounded noise and flicked his hand out into the sign for Somne, and pushed a hell of a lot of chaos through it.  Enough that Lambert felt the edges of it, and managed to relax his pull on Geralt’s wrist just enough to not jerk the Wolf’s hand backwards when the white-haired Witcher went abruptly limp in his arms.  Lambert carefully pried the knife out of Geralt’s fingers, wiped it clean, and stuck it through his own belt, before looking over at Eskel with his own feeling of panic sitting like a lead weight in his stomach.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he said, voice shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel raked his hands over his face, shoulders hunched, and made that little wounded noise again.  “It-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you give me that fucking line about it not being your story like Vesemir did, I will fucking hit you, Eskel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older Witcher flinched at the venom in his voice, and nodded. “Let...I’ll carry... we should go back.  First.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert let Eskel take Geralt, and looked for a better way back up the slide they’d come down.  “I’m holding you to that, Eskel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took almost an hour to get back to the keep, and they’d had to stop once and re-administer the sign when Geralt started to fight his way back up.  Lambert had helped restrain him while Eskel had put him back under.  Once they were back underway, he caught a hint of saltwater on the wind, and felt the world tilt even further out of balance as he realized Eskel was crying silently.  Lambert found himself reciting every swear word he knew in his mind, bouncing from language to language, trying to find a sliver of normalcy. He was going through the litany a third time when they finally reached the keep, and he looked up to see Vesemir waiting by the door, though thankfully without Ciri.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The cub is sleeping.  I wrapped her wrist and gave her something for the pain,” Vesemir said as soon as they were close enough to speak, his eyes locked on Eskel and Geralt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert pulled Geralt’s knife from his belt and slammed it into the door on the way past.  “You and Eskel are telling me why the fuck Geralt was trying to cut his damn arm off as soon as we get him to his room,” he snarled at the old man, and stalked off to the laboratory to get a vial of Swallow and some bandages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Vi,” he heard Vesemir say softly as he moved out of range.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir glanced after Lambert, then to the knife, then to Eskel, and finally to the Wolf’s face, tense and unhappy even in sleep.  “Come, Eskel,” he said, feeling every one of his nearly four hundred years keenly.  “I wanted to give... I wanted her to have a choice, this time.  But I’m not sure that’s something she’s capable of making, at this point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel carried the Wolf past, heading for the hall where their rooms were.  “She chose,” he said quietly, voice rough with grief.  “She was trying to remove her arm.  That’s a choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir winced.  “I suppose it is.  Removing the arm to remove the cuff.”  He followed Eskel up the steps, regret making his steps heavy.  Once the Wolf was laid out, he helped Eskel get the dirty, torn up shirt off, and started checking to see how bad the wound was.  She hadn’t hit any of the main blood vessels, thankfully, but it was still deep, and would need stitching. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel wordlessly moved around the room, getting water, some clean towels, and the medical kit they all kept in their rooms.  As he set the supplies down beside Vesemir, the old wolf reached over, curling his hand around the back of Eskel’s neck.  “We will </span>
  <em>
    <span>fix</span>
  </em>
  <span> this, Eskel.  I will fix this,” he promised, voice raw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fix what,” Lambert said from the door, his own voice unsteady.  He came in, setting down a vial of swallow and a roll of bandage wrapped neatly in clean linen.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir closed his eyes for a moment, trying to find the words to explain.  The youngest wolf wasn’t going to take this well, and truthfully, Vesemir wouldn’t blame him one bit for that.  He hadn’t taken it well himself, and neither had Eskel, though he’d flattened the young wolf </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard</span>
  </em>
  <span> to keep the trainers and mages from coming down on him as well.  Taking a breath, he opened his eyes and started cleaning the wound on Vi’s arm. “I’m going to tell you the whole story, Lambert.  From the beginning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel prepped a needle for him, passing it over when Vesemir deemed the wound clean enough.  The old wolf kept his eyes on the injury, trusting Eskel to keep track of Vi’s alertness.  “It started eighty four years ago.  When I was given a child of surprise by a witch in the woods.  A druidess, Visenna. She walked into my camp one night, alone, sat down at my fire, and told me I would find a child on the road the next day.  A girl, born under a comet, into a prophecy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert made a little, disturbed noise, as though he was going to interrupt, and Vesemir closed his eyes again, then opened them to begin stitching.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marked by light within the night / Sleeping wolf with fur of white / Hidden face and hidden wild. Wake to guard the white-fire child / With the wild run, wolf, run / To catch the child of the falling sun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time it was Eskel that made the noise, having never heard the prophecy, and Vesemir caught his eyes for a moment with a tired smile.  “It was how I kept her alive, when I brought her back.  Viressia.  Vi.  Wolf school doesn’t take girls as Witchers.  Except for her.  And they never let her forget it.  The trainers expected her to fail.  When she didn’t, they made it harder for her, pushed her more than any other trainee.  Were...harsher with her. Cruel, even.  The mages expected her to die in the trials.  When she didn’t....”  He tied off the suture, and cleaned the wound again and his hands, then reached for the bandages.  “They took her for more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt </span>
  </em>
  <span>is...”  Lambert sounded horrified, and Vesemir made a little noise of affirmation, and started wrapping the wound.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is no Geralt.  When she survived a second round of trials, the mages and trainers got together to discuss.  They didn’t want a woman walking the Path as a Wolf, and one of the mages came up with a...solution.  They created a cuff, an armlet.  It would transform her into a man.  They gave her what they called a choice:  wear the cuff, or be cast out immediately, with only the clothes on her back.  Half trained, still a child.”  Vesemir flinched slightly at the noise that came out of Lambert, and saw Eskel wrap his arms around the smaller wolf, though he couldn’t tell if the hold was for comfort, or to keep Lambert from lunging at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I fought the decision.  Argued until I was hoarse.  Hadn’t she proved herself enough?”  Finally, he looked up at his two other pups, letting Lambert see how much it had pained him, that this had happened.  “A swordmaster cannot overrule all of the mages, and the head of the school,” he said quietly.  “Eskel knew.  And Gweld.  Though Vi was never very close with Gweld.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When the pogrom...When we came back, that winter, and they were gone, with just Vesemir left, I thought she’d remove it.  I thought Vi would come back,” Eskel said, voice rusty from emotion.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which is when we found out the mages cursed it.  If she removed it...it would kill her.”  Carefully, Vesemir lifted his white-haired pup’s head, slowly administering the swallow.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert wobbled in Eskel’s grip.  “Fuck,” he breathed, nausea clear in his voice.  “The cuff...her </span>
  <em>
    <span>arm</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tucking the White Wolf back into bed and making sure Somne was still holding, Vesemir turned to the youngest and nodded.  “I’m not sure if removing her arm would count as removing the cuff, or if it would break the curse.  Either way-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Lambert said again.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ciri</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  She got hurt.  And was bleeding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suspect it was the blood that pushed Vi over.  The mages... the other trainers.  Kaer Morhen was never a safe place for her.  Eskel... you find that xenovox the Wolf had?”  Vesemir looked up at the dark-haired Witcher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  I’ll.  I’ll go...I think it’s Yennefer, that it’s connected to.  I’ll call.  See if she can come.”  He let go of Lambert with a last little squeeze, and slipped out of the room.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir met the fiery wolf’s eyes.  “I’ll stay, for now.  Go.  Find something to hit.  Or blow up, I don’t care.  But don’t leave.  Might need you to spell me.  I suspect we’ll need to keep her under, for now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Vesemir wondered if Lambert was going to hit </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but the younger wolf wavered on his feet for a moment, before baring his teeth in a pained snarl and stalking out of the room in a cloud of anxiety, worry, and nausea.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir looked back at the still form on the bed, and brushed his hand over fine white hair.  “I’m sorry pup.  I shouldn’t have let it go this long. Should have tried to fix it sooner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel had gone off, and apparently reached the sorceress on the other side of the xenovox, because several hours later, a portal opened in the courtyard and disgorged a raven-haired sorceress who looked quite irritated, and a worried looking man with a lute over his back, dressed highly impractically for Kaer Morhen. Before Lambert could even open his mouth, Eskel pushed past him out the doorway and went to greet them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert looked back through the hall, towards the stairs, and decided he didn’t want to be here for this discussion, and if anyone was going to get yelled at by a sorceress, it should be Vesemir.  Lips twitching in a grim smirk, he headed back up to Gera-no.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vi’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> room.  Pushing through the door, he tipped his head to Vesemir in a ‘you can go’ gesture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Witch is here.  With some foppish looking man carrying a lute. Eskel’s with them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The old wolf sighed and pushed to his feet, knees popping as he moved.  “Very well.  I’ll go help...explain.  You-”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll stay.”  Lambert jerked his chin towards the door and crossed over to the bed, looking down at Ger- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vi</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Vi.  He’d remember. He didn’t watch as Vesemir left, and sat down as the other wolf closed the door.  Fuck, even still out, the White Wolf still looked like hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Pretty boy...” he started, then trailed off with a wince and rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, mussing it up despite the pomade he used.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.   I can’t call you that anymore.  How the hell did you put up with me calling you that for so long?  Why didn’t you just </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell</span>
  </em>
  <span> me?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slumping back in the chair, he kicked his feet out and tipped his head back, looking up at the ceiling.  “What makes it worse for me, I think, is that... I had to be hurting you.  I’m friends with Cats, you know.  They have a few women among their ranks.  I wouldn’t have judged you for it.  Mad as fuck at those assholes that made you do this, but...”  he trailed off again, sighing, and went quiet, struggling with his own thoughts.  The faint sound of shouting from below let him know that Vesemir (or Eskel, or possibly both) had started explaining why they’d called the witch in.  The shouting went on for a while, as well, one of the most audible voices being that of the man that had come through with the witch.  Clearly someone who knew his...sister.  Lambert didn’t bother listening too closely for anything detailed, figuring they’d all end up in this room at some point anyway and he’d get to hear it all eventually.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, maybe ten minutes after the shouting died down, he heard footsteps in the hall, and then the door opened quietly.  Surprisingly, the first person in wasn’t the witch, but a human man with fluffy brown hair and very blue eyes.  Eyes that were a little red, as though he’d been crying.  Lambert eyed him as he stepped over to the bed, hands opening and closing at his sides.  After a moment, he turned to Lambert, distress and a sort of...almost relief rolled off of him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If...can I... sit?  Or touch?  Will it wake...her?” he asked, keeping his voice soft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can, it shouldn’t.  You aren’t the witch,” Lambert said, a bit suspicious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, oh.  No.  I’m Jaskier.  The...I’m a bard.”  He sat down carefully on the edge of the bed and reached out to brush a hand over Vi’s hair.  “Hello Vi,” he said quietly.  “I always wondered who you really were.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert gave him a startled look.  Ger-Vi’s bard.  And - “What do you mean, you always wondered?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue eyes met his, and a tired, wry smile quirked up the side of the bard’s mouth.  “My job is to watch and listen and perform.  If I can’t read my audience I’d be a poor bard.  I realized fairly quickly that while referring to ...to her, I suppose, as the White Wolf didn’t bother her, referring to her as Geralt did.  Or using he, or him.  There had to be a story there, some reason why, but I never pushed to find out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert made a little pained noise.  He hadn’t noticed.  Decades, and he hadn’t noticed.  “Fuck,” he muttered, and stood to pace around the room.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t terribly obvious.  It took me a while to notice, and we traveled together every season,” Jaskier tried to reassure him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More footsteps outside, these lighter and with a click to them that made him think of heels, made Lambert stop pacing and turn to face the door.  This time the person that slipped in </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> probably the witch, long black hair hanging in waves around her shoulders, purple eyes meeting his briefly before moving on to the form on the bed.  Anger, chaos, dismay, guilt - it all roiled around her with the scent of lilac and gooseberries, and made Lambert feel off kilter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span> Witcher,” she murmured, stepping over to the bed, but not sitting or reaching out to touch.  “I suppose this explains your reaction to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, the one man you ever met that you couldn’t wrap around your little finger?” the bard snapped from his seat on the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you not count yourself a man then, bard?” came the cool reply, with a little hint of venom in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier opened his mouth to reply and Lambert growled at them both.  “Shut up or leave,” he snarled quietly.  “You’re here to help fix this, not make it worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both turned towards him with their own versions of sheepish looks.  Yennefer gave him a little nod, Jaskier actually looked guilty, and turned back to the figure on the bed.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, Lambert nodded back at them both, then turned his attention to Yennefer.  “So?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So?” She asked back, arching an eyebrow at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you fix it?  Get whatever cursed thing off?”  He raked his hair back, the wax losing the fight against the stress and his curls.  He heard the door open again, but kept his eyes on Yennefer, recognizing Eskel and Vesemir by sound and scent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked away, and reached out a hand, chaos spinning out and pooling around the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert realized he was holding his breath when Vesemir’s hand came down on his shoulder.  “Breathe, pup,” he said softly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Several minutes went by, and Lambert kept having to remind himself to breathe.  Finally, the sorceress let her hand drop, and she turned to look at the assembled Witchers.  “I can remove it,” she told them, voice clipped.  “And whoever made that nasty piece of work better be dead already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir rumbled a little behind Lambert.  “They are.  How long do you need?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It will take me perhaps a day to disarm the curse enough to get it off, which should trigger a transformation back.  But that...  That will take.  Days.  At least three.  And I will need to stay here to monitor hi-her health.”  Yennefer’s lips pressed together, looking at all of the Witchers in turn, ending with Vesemir.  “I would... suggest strapping her down.  To the bed.  To keep her from hurting herself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert shuddered, hard.  “Fuck.  Can’t you just, I don’t know.  Keep her asleep?  Magic her under?  Something stronger than Somne?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart dropped when Yennefer shook her head.  “No, I need to keep my power at hand, to help stabilize her, and monitor her physical condition.  This will not be pleasant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t the first time, either,” Vesemir said softly, old pain in his voice, and Lambert twisted to look at him, feeling ill.  “I wasn’t sure if it was because she had only been out of the second set of Trials for a few days, but it was as bad as a third trial, almost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”  Lambert twisted back, head snapping over to Eskel, who had sworn this time, and watched the usually calm Witcher sit down heavily by the door.  “Vesemir.  I can’t...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and Lambert take Ciri and Jaskier out to the nearby caves, maybe.  Teach them how to ice fish,” the old Wolf said.  “I’ll stay with Vi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That dragged a noise out of Eskel that Lambert couldn’t put a name to.  Conflicted, maybe?  “Come on, ‘Skel.  We’ll get out of here.  Get the humans out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it helps,” Vesemir added quietly, “I doubt she’ll be aware of much, even after it’s over, for a day or two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing, Lambert held a hand out to Jaskier, who looked at it, then looked up at him, startled.  “Yes now, bard.  We’ll go get packed and get out to the caves and get settled.  Let the witch work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorceress</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Yennefer muttered, but her attention seemed to mostly be on the bed and it’s occupant.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bard hesitated a moment longer before finally taking the proffered hand.  Pulling the slighter man to his feet, Lambert half-dragged him towards the door, and Eskel, who had stood up and opened it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get Ciri and start packing,” Eskel said, vanishing out into the hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert pulled the bard out, shut the door behind them, and let go of his hand, heading for his own room.  “Go get your things and meet us by the door.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir listened to them split up and wander off, and moved quietly about the room, finding old leather belts he could hook together.  The witch paid him no mind, both hands outstretched, beginning the process of removing the death curse on the armlet.  Or at least, he had thought she wasn’t paying attention until - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is... I thought Aretuza was bad.  Priming us and changing us, to be used, to see our outsides as another tool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand clenched on the belts, and the leather creaked in his grip.  “I fought them,” he rasped.  “Hell.  I literally fought them.  Got in a duel with the school head.  Lost.  They threatened to strip me of my medallion.  Toss me out.  Where I couldn’t do anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The witch let out a shuddery breath, fingers shaking for a moment, before she clenched her jaw and straightened her hands out again, letting her magic curl around the body on the bed.  “...You....did your best.  This is just,” her voice wobbled a little.  “I hope... I didn’t make it worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”  Vesemir frowned, and found a last belt that would probably work.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing.  Are you ready?”  she asked, voice crisp, business-like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It clearly wasn’t nothing, but he’d let it go for now.  “Yes.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the great hall, Eskel met Lambert and Jaskier by the door, Ciri on his back, and a pair of bulging packs in his hands.  He could feel the prickle of magic, his medallion vibrating slightly, and knew the sorceress was starting.  Catching Lambert’s eyes, he nodded to the door, and was relieved when the younger wolf followed his lead without question, opening it up and ushering the bard out into the late afternoon snow.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are we going out now, Uncle Eskel?” Ciri asked, keeping her voice quiet so as not to shout in his ear.  “Wouldn’t it be better to leave in the morning?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Camping spot isn’t far, cub.  We’ll make it easily before nightfall.  Then we can be out fishing first thing in the morning.”  And the further they were from the keep by morning, the better.  Eskel only had vague memories of his own set of trials, but he did remember screaming.  And he remembered Lambert’s more clearly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Lambert added.  “I’ll teach you my way of fishing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha-</span>
  <em>
    <span>Lambert</span>
  </em>
  <span> you cannot fish with </span>
  <em>
    <span>bombs</span>
  </em>
  <span> when there’s ice!”  Eskel trotted forwards through the snow to catch up with the younger wolf, his comment startling the bard out of whatever deep thoughts he’d been in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fishing with </span>
  <em>
    <span>bombs</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Jaskier laughed, trying to keep things lighter for Ciri.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goes a lot faster than with a net or pole,” Lambert shrugged, and headed down towards the cave, breaking a trail for the bard and Eskel to follow.  “But I suppose when ice fishing it might not be the best plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No shit,” Eskel drawled, rolling his eyes.  “I don’t think any of us want to go swimming right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert just flipped him off and led the way into the cave.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they’d all gotten settled, a good fire going, stew in a pot over it, Eskel settled back onto his bedroll.  Jaskier and Ciri were on the other side of the fire, furthest from the entrance, Lambert beside him.  The bard had his lute in his lap but wasn’t playing, the fingers of his left hand absently moving over the neck as though he was, but he wasn’t making noise with it, save for a few very soft echoes from the placements of his fingers.  Ciri looked from Jaskier, to Lambert, then Eskel, and bit her lip for a moment before finally speaking.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uncle Eskel...why are we really here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel flinched slightly, and rubbed a hand over his scars, tracing the lines of them with his fingertips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert spoke before Eskel could get his thoughts in order.  “It...they’re...helping the White Wolf.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri made a little startled noise and sat up straighter, like she wanted to leave.  “Wait, what’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Eskel caught Lambert’s bicep before the younger wolf could reply, and shook his head a little.  “It’s a bit of a sad story, Ciri.  But the truth...the truth is that there never was a Witcher named Geralt.  Wolf School hasn’t taken girls in the past, it’s true.  Except for one, and her name is Vi. The trainers and mages didn’t want word getting out that there was a female Witcher, so they...cursed her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri was quiet for a moment, eyes wide, then softly said, “oh.  That’s...  that’s why the Wolf didn’t like being touched.  Or being called Geralt.  Because </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> was supposed to be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> and they took it away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All three adults looked at the girl with quiet respect, and on Jaskier’s side, no little pride in their eyes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it exactly,” Eskel said quietly.  “Only it’s not going to be pleasant, for it to be fixed.  So we’re going to catch fish we can eat over the winter, maybe smoke some of them, and in a few days, we’ll go back.  And you can meet Vi properly, as herself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri nodded, and gave them all little smiles, though she still looked worried. “That’s why the Wolf... why Vi wasn’t sleeping well while we were travelling, isn't it.  Why she would go up to the inn rooms sometimes and you’d go after her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel nodded.  “Her mind was hurting her with memories of things that had happened.  Seeing you  - and this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not your fault</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ciri - it brought up things I think she was mostly just trying to forget.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl twisted her hands in her lap, and Jaskier put his lute aside and caught them with his own.  “Sweetheart, it’s absolutely not your fault.  The people that did this to the Wolf, to Vi, died a long time ago.  It’s like being reminded of a fire every time you smell wood smoke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning in to Jaskier’s side, Ciri nodded.  “I...I understand.  It’s like...my dreams.  About Cintra.  Only mine are starting to get better, because... because they can heal.  But Vi couldn’t, until now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel smiled at her, and pressed a hand to his chest.  Damn, she was insightful.  “Yeah, cub.  After this, we can all help her heal.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Wolf wakes, and wonders.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Two days later found Ciri back on Eskel’s back, Jaskier loaded down with a basket of fish and his lute, and Lambert carrying most of the bags and cutting a path through the snow as they headed back towards the Keep.  Eskel was quiet, lost in his own mind, wondering how everything had gone.  Ciri, her arms curled around his neck, was quiet too, obviously lost in her own thoughts.  Even Jaskier was quiet, not even humming under his breath.  The four of them made a thoughtful, sober parade, winding through the fresh snow back towards Kaer Morhen.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they’d reached the keep, Lambert and Jaskier split off, to put the fish away, and Eskel just continued up to Vi’s room, still carrying Ciri.  As they reached the floor the room was on, Ciri stirred a little and sighed against his ear.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do... Do you think the Wolf - Vi, I mean - will be awake?” the girl asked, hesitantly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel’s breath hitched a little.  Gods, he was hoping Vi was </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  “I.  I don’t know, Ciri.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope so,” Ciri murmured, and her arms tightened a little, giving him a little hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have anything to say to that, dropping back into silence until they were outside Vi’s room.  He put one hand on the door, hesitating for a moment, and finally pushed his way in.  Vesemir was in the chair beside the bed, Yennefer nowhere to be seen, and in the bed, white hair limp and soaked in sweat, was Vi.  Not Geralt, but Vi.  Though he hadn’t seen her face since she was fourteen, Eskel recognized her immediately.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri squirmed until he put her down, and then limped over to the bed.  “Oh,” she said softly.  “She’s so pretty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir stirred, eyes cracking open slightly, and flicked from Ciri to Eskel, still frozen by the door.  “...Eskel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel could hear Vi’s heart, could see her breathing, and managed to pull his eyes away, looking over to Vesemir.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older wolf gave him a tired smile. “She made it through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel’s breath escaped in a shudder, and he stumbled over to the bed. Vesemir stood when he got close, and moved out of the way.  “Sit, pup,” Vesemir said kindly.  “I’m going to go rest now that you’re here to watch over her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sinking down into the chair, still feeling stunned, Eskel nodded.  Gods it </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> worked.  That was Vi.  Still asleep, but definitely Vi.  “Welcome back, Vi,” he murmured, voice breaking a little, and reached out to brush a hand through her hair.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri looked over at him.  “You knew her before, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel nodded.  “Yeah.  Yeah, we grew up together.  She used to beat me at everything, too.  Dead set on being the best.”  His hand lingered on Vi’s forehead, and he found himself suddenly struggling not to cry.  Relief, that’s what it was.  Although she still had to wake up and be present. And he knew that removing the cuff wouldn’t remove the last eighty-four years of struggle.  “She... Ciri, you know she’ll be the same person, somewhat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, just.  I was curious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened suddenly, Lambert padding in on silent feet, Jaskier following close behind.  Eskel looked over just in time to see Lambert stop short, the bard walking into his back, then stepping around the wall of Witcher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that’s...Vi.  Our sister.”  Lambert met Eskel’s eyes briefly, before looking back at the figure on the bed.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”  Eskel brushed his fingers through her hair again, then sat back in the chair.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ran into Vesemir.  Yennefer said she’d probably not wake up until tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shifting in the chair, making himself more comfortable, Eskel nodded in understanding.  “I’ll stay with her tonight then.  In case.”  He’d been there when she woke up from the Trials the first time, but had been kept away the second.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure you wanna stay all night?  I can come up for a few hours so you can get dinner and a bit of rest,” Lambert offered.  “Then you can be here in the morning and overnight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’ll stay.  Just bring me something, all right?  Ciri, you should go with them, though,” Eskel added.  “If she wakes, everyone will know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a little sigh, Ciri nodded and headed for the door with Lambert and Jaskier.  “See you in the morning, Uncle Eskel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you, cub.  Get some sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>True to prediction, Vi slept through the whole night, barely even moving.  Eskel realized partway through that she must be in the healing sleep that Witchers dropped into when it was needed, and let himself go into a light state of meditation.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A faint noise from the bed and the spill of early sunlight across the floor brought him out of the trance he’d been in, and Eskel shifted, pushing up from where he’d been kneeling beside the bed to sit down on the edge.  Vi frowned and shifted again, then slowly woke, eyes flickering open.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Eskel said, or tried to.  His voice broke on the quiet word.  “Welcome home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vi’s eyes closed for a long moment, and when she opened them again, tears slid out.  Her right hand reached for her arm and overshot, fumbling to find the bandage on her bicep.  “...’Skel...?” she rasped, her voice shot.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yennefer removed it.  You.  Tried to cut your arm off.  We …we hoped that meant you wanted the armlet off?”  Eskel watched her carefully, trying to read her expressions, but there were too many emotions, her scent as confusing as her face.  “Did... were we right, Vi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vi..” she rasped again, her voice hoarse.  After a moment, she started trying to sit up, struggling with tired, sore muscles.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel reached out and slid an arm around behind her, like he would have for Lambert, or the Wolf, when they were injured.  She paused, stiffening, clearly expecting pain from the touch, and then looked up at him, lost, when nothing happened.  “Let me help... I’ll get you some water for your throat, and I can let the others know you’re awake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Mirror,” came the request, her body tense against his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Eskel pulled the pillows behind her so she could sit easier, and then handed her the mug of water and went to get the small mirror (face down, on top of a dresser) that the Wolf had used sparingly for shaving.  Turning back to the bed, he saw Vi sitting there, holding the water and just...looking down at herself.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘M smaller...?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, a little.  Not a lot, though.  Vi, we’ll all help.  You’ll just... need to find your balance again.”  He crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed again, mirror held shiny side down.  “Want me to get the others?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wordlessly, she held the mug out to him with one hand, and gestured with the other to the mirror.  Her hands were shaking, he noticed, a fine tremor.  With a sigh, he took the mug back and handed her the mirror.  “You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Vi.   And we have all winter for you to... to... come home.  Come back.”  He would fight to get her back.  Letting her die wasn’t an option, and watching his friend vanish into the stress of their own mind had been agony.  He hoped that this was the start of Vi truly coming back to them, and that it wouldn’t hurt her further.  Surely a lifetime of pain was enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Letting out a shaky breath, Vi looked down at the mirror in her hands.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Her</span>
  </em>
  <span> hands.  Still long fingered, still big, just.  More delicate than before.  The scars from decades on the path were still there, faint white lines crossing over her knuckles, a bite mark near the base of her thumb.  Her hands, but not her hands...except they were.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She made a little noise in her throat, ignoring the pain (clearly she’d been screaming, but she didn’t remember), and lifted the mirror, with no idea what she’d find.  Looking back at her was... her mother?  No.  But.  She didn’t recognize the face looking back, until she caught the faint scar over her eyebrow, and the one on her chin and just under her eye.  Same gold eyes.  Same white hair and too pale skin.  But the nose...smaller.  Still had a bump, from being broken.  Her lips were almost the same, a little fuller.  Softer.  Everything was a little softer.  Finer.  The reflection wobbled as her hands shook, and she dropped the mirror, letting it fall back into her lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel looked up from the chair by the bed, and reached out, as if to touch, and she flinched, looking away.  Fuck, he looked like hell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vi,” she heard him start, and trail off when she made a little noise somewhere between a growl and a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, ‘Skel...Vi, Geralt, Wolf.”  She lifted shaking hands, studying them again.  “I..I don’t... Who the fuck am I, even.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of Eskel’s hands (larger than hi-</span>
  <em>
    <span>hers</span>
  </em>
  <span> now) caught the hand closest to him, and she flinched slightly, expecting pain that, again, didn’t come.  Her breath came out in a shudder as she stared at their hands, memories of sneaking away to the library late at night, pulling Eskel through the halls - he’d been all angles and skinny limbs before the trials.  At twelve, just before the trials, he’d pulled </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> into a corner and kissed her, a first kiss for both of them.  Then the mages had taken them, and it had all been over.  Her breath caught, a sense of grief, of panic crashing over her, and then Eskel started speaking.  It took her a little to start making sense of the words, but when she did...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“..oldest friend,” he was saying, voice quiet.  “You helped make this place a home for me. Even after... I’d come back every winter and wait for you, because it wasn’t home until you were here.  It doesn’t matter what name you use, what your body looks like, you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Eskel</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she rasped, and curled forward over their hands, body shaking as the dam that had held back all the grief and rage and despair that had plagued her for so many years finally broke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment, the bed dipped as Eskel sat on the edge, and then a warm hand rested on her back.  Vi flinched slightly again, preparing for pain, and then shuddered when it didn’t come, hot tears dripping onto her hands.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The warm hand on her back rubbed soothing circles, and she found herself slumping into Eskel’s side, unable to resist the comfort of his presence.  It didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel’s heart lurched as Vi slumped into his side, shuddering with silent sobs.  He continued rubbing circles on her back, feeling her slowly go still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vi?” he said softly, and realized when she didn’t move that she’d fallen asleep on him, still worn to exhaustion by everything that had happened.  Dimly, he heard a bit of commotion in the main hall, and remembered that Lambert had said he had a friend coming up this winter. Carefully, he started to shift Vi, wanting to lay her down, make her more comfortable, and froze when she shifted a little, a sliver of gold meeting his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he murmured.  “Go back to sleep, Vi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...y’leaving?” she mumbled, brows drawing together in a bit of consternation.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...I was...I can,” he said, trying to guess what it was she wanted from this.  She looked exhausted and still mostly asleep, eyes red from crying.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She curled a hand into his shirt, preventing him from putting her down on the bed and startling him.  “Stay,” she rasped, voice cracking a little, and she tried to tuck herself closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Eskel’s turn to shiver, and he carefully shifted them over on the bed, stretching an arm out under the pillows, and laying down next to her.  He didn’t try to hold her, but kept his side open so she could curl up against him if she wanted, not wanting to overwhelm her.  It only took a moment for Vi to fall asleep again, tucked against his side. It hurt, in a good way, deep inside, to have her back.  He lay there, letting himself just feel, and slowly the exhaustion from the last several days caught up to him as well, and he slipped into sleep beside her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the main hall, Lambert was picking at his lunch, trying to put the image of Geralt in the snow out of his mind.  Vesemir had put together foods that could sit out and be eaten cold, made himself a tray, and left for his room, and Ciri was still asleep, leaving Lambert and the bard alone in the main hall.  The bard was silent as well though, staring blankly into a mug of cider.  After a moment, Lambert just pushed his plate away and put his head down on his arms.  What a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>mess</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The noise of the front door sliding open slightly startled him and his head snapped up.  Who the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck - </span>
  </em>
  <span>“...Aiden,” he breathed in sudden relief.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The slim Cat blinked at him, greenish yellow eyes wide, the right one a bit filmed over from damage that would never fully heal.  “...Lambert?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shoving himself away from the table, he stumbled over to his Cat, and wrapped his arms around Aiden’s slightly slimmer, shorter form.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he mumbled, and then put his head down on his lover’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden was stiff for a moment in his arms, clearly startled, before his arms wrapped around Lambert in return.  “What... Lambert...”  The worry was clear in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert just tightened his arms around Aiden.  He didn’t want to talk about it, not yet.  He just wanted a few minutes to just...be.  He heard the bard moving around, footsteps fading, and figured the other man had left for his room.   Aiden’s fingers brushed through his hair, and lips pressed against the side of his head, the scent of worry increasing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lamb, kitten... what’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a last squeeze, Lambert finally pulled back a little, and dragged Aiden towards the big fireplace and the old chairs there.  “I.  This isn’t a normal winter.  I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden didn’t fight the drag, dropping his bags before sitting down.  “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert ruffled up his own hair, dragging his fingers through the curls that he’d failed to re-wax back, and sat down on Aiden’s lap, still wanting to be close.  “Just.  I told you about the other wolves, you remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Vesemir, your trainer, Eskel, and Geralt.  Did.  Did one of them fall on the Path?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, thank fuck.”  Lambert shuddered, remembering blood in the snow.  “No.  It’s.  Geralt.”  He trailed off for a moment, before giving Aiden a run down of everything that had happened, telling the story in fits and starts.  “...and I never </span>
  <em>
    <span>noticed</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he ended, voice raw and barely above a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden’s arms had tightened around him during the tale, and his scent had run the gamut from worry to rage and back to worry, tempered with anger.  “Kitten.  That’s.  I know it’s your school, but that’s just </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucked</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he growled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shuddering again, Lambert raked a hand through his hair, the gesture adding to the fluff his curls were becoming.  “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Cats have female Witchers.  Not many, but you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  They succeed on the path.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pressing a kiss to Lambert’s temple, Aiden caught his hand and laced their fingers together.  “We do.  And as for not noticing... Lamb, you told me that Geralt was broody, disliked being touched, and didn’t talk about himself much.  You’re younger enough that those two were both out on the Path already when you were going through the Trials.  You can’t blame  yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t I?” the youngest wolf growled.  “Vi’s child of surprise noticed.  The bard that’s only known... her?  For a decade or two... he noticed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bards are trained to notice.  Witchers aren’t.  Not emotional shit like that”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But - “</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lamb,” Aiden interrupted.  “We’re trained to notice things like monsters, incipient violence, things like that.  Not... not this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert sighed and rested his head against Aiden’s, letting his lover keep his hand.  He sat quietly for a while, cuddling with Aiden, taking comfort in his lover’s presence, before finally speaking again.  “...Aiden?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm?”  The Cat had been half-meditating, trying to just be there for Lambert.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you...How familiar are you with the fighting styles of the female Cats?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, fairly?  I’ve sparred with them plenty,” he replied, a bit of curiosity in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert hummed quietly to himself.  “Vi...She’s going to have to re-learn how to fight.  She’s shorter than Geralt.  And slimmer.  None of her gear is going to fit either.”  Lambert’s mind turned that problem over, latching onto it as something he could help with, something he could actually do to help his sister get her life back.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden smiled and nodded.  “Yeah.  I can help.  You and I both can.  I took a couple of wyvern contracts this season too, I have some nice leather you can use.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Twisting a bit on Aiden’s lap, Lambert leaned in to kiss him sweetly.  “Thank you,” he murmured.  “For understanding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s family, Kitten.  Whatever you need.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vi woke again late, the room dark, the fire mere embers.  Eskel was curled around her still, one arm wrapped over her torso, and she fought down the urge to cry.  It could have been before the trials, with them curled up together, comforting one another.  Carefully, not wanting to wake him, she slipped out from under his arm, and pushed her way to sitting on the edge of the bed, reaching out to pick up the small mirror again.  White hair, not red.  Gold eyes, not green.  But she could see it, see the girl she’d been.  Fingers traced the faint scar over her eyebrow, the one on her chin, then dropped to the striga bight on her shoulder.  Geralt’s scars.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hers</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  She, hers.  No longer hiding behind he, his, or Geralt.  Fuck that felt weird.  It sounded strange even thinking it, and Vi found herself with a faintly cynical smile, wondering if it’d take another decade or two like it had to get used to it again.  Being...herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind her, Eskel made a quiet noise, and then his hand touched her hip gently through the loose pants she was in.  Pants that, like the shirt, fit abominably, and reeked of sweat.  “I...need a bath, ‘Skel,” she said softly, voice still a little rusty.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel shifted behind her, sitting up and scooting up but didn’t quite press up against her, letting her keep her space.  “I mean.  I wasn’t gonna </span>
  <em>
    <span>say</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything Wolf, but...” His voice was gentle, teasing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hesitated a moment, then gave in to the desire and leaned back against him, digging an elbow into his ribs for the tease, even as tears welled up.  “‘M still your Wolf...?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An arm wrapped around her, and she felt Eskel’s breath catch in his throat for a moment, before he spoke behind her, his own voice rough.  “Always,” he rumbled.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vi shuddered, dropping the mirror on the bed to curl her hand around his arm.  The tears she’d been fighting started to fall, and Eskel put his head down against her shoulder.  His arm stayed around her waist, offering comfort.  Comfort she’d wanted for a long time, but never dared take.  After a moment, she twisted, wiggling around to put her head down against his chest, burrowing in against him, and wrapped her arms around his waist.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Vi</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he said, voice choked, and put his other arm around her as well.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Vi starts down a new path, helped by family along the way.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It took Vi a week to get back on her feet after the removal of the curse, and Eskel stayed close, trying to give her space while still being on hand to comfort her.  And, though he wouldn’t admit this to anyone, he relished the ability to be able to touch his friend again.  This morning, he was out in the courtyard, frowning as he watched Vi, in clothes borrowed from Aiden, going through the basic sword drills.  She kept frowning and stopping, the movements not as smooth as they should.  He started to push up off the bench where he’d been tending to his swords, and felt a hand on his shoulder.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay, Eskel,” murmured Vesemir, and gestured with his chin towards the other side of the courtyard, where Aiden and Lambert had paused in their sparring to watch.  After a moment, the younger wolf broke off, approaching Vi.  Other than a few short conversations, introducing Aiden to her, and facilitating the offer of some loaner clothes, Lambert hadn’t spent a lot of time with her since she’d awoken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Wolf,” Lambert said, stopping just out of range, and watched his...his </span>
  <em>
    <span>sister</span>
  </em>
  <span> lurch to a halt and huff quietly in annoyance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lamb,” she grumbled, and he grinned.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought maybe if you’re willing...Aiden and I have some ideas,” he commented.  “I think your speed’s still there, strength too.  You just need to re-balance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That got an actual laugh out of the younger wolf.  The more things changed... “Come on, Vi.  You know the Cats have had female Witchers for decades...a century even, more.”  He heard Aiden pad up behind him, and knew the Cat was close, but staying silent.  “We can help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vi looked over at the pair of them, and Lambert was startled to realize he could read her micro-expressions as easily as he’d ever read Geralt’s.  She really </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> Geralt. Or rather, Geralt was Vi.  And that was... comforting.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take that as a yes then,” he chirped, aiming for annoying, and smirked when Vi rolled her eyes at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are your thoughts then?” she said with a sigh.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden shifted behind Lambert, and spoke up.  “I’d like to start with basics, if that’s all right?  No swords, just...movement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One white eyebrow went up, and Aiden shrugged, leaning against Lambert’s back.  “Look, you still know the movements, it’s not that.  Your center of balance is totally different now though, and your reach is shorter.  You need to adjust to the first before you think about addressing anything else.  I can take you through the unarmed movements we use, and then when you feel more comfortable, we can do some knife work.  Should get you used to your new reach.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert didn’t try to push the Cat off, used to Aiden’s desire to touch.  “I’ll do it with you.  Aiden can watch and correct our form.”  That way too, she wasn’t sparring with someone who was basically a stranger.  “After...Look, I...need some measurements from you.  None of your old gear is gonna fit for shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face tightened up and she made another little non-verbal Geralt-y noise, then sighed and nodded.  Sheathing the sword she’d been using, she racked it and returned to the spot.  “Fine,” she grumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snorting, Lambert moved over opposite her. “I see the grumpiness is just an innate part of  your personality, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only one of us got personality, Eskel took it all,” she told him blandly, and he huffed in mock-offense before laughing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aiden chuckled and hopped up onto the low wall to watch.  “Start position, Lambert, you mirror for Vi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert grinned, glad to have pulled a bit of good humor out of his sister, and slipped into the basic form to start, watching her study him and then copy.  This would work.  They’d get the White Wolf back in shape, and Lambert would make sure every lingering asshole of a ghost remaining saw how wrong they’d been to force her into the wrong body for so long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That evening as they sat around in various states of lounging, Vi opted to stay downstairs with the others.  Aiden and Lambert were on the rug, Aiden half asleep draped over Lambert’s lap. Vesemir was in his chair by the fire with Jaskier perched on the ottoman nearby quietly tuning his lute. Eskel was sprawled on the couch, taking up the majority of the space.  Yen had taken Ciri up to bed already, and everyone else was left to settle in for a night of lounging. Hesitating for just a moment, she eventually picked her way over to the couch and bumped a knee against Eskel’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shove over, ‘Skel,” she murmured, and sat when he obediently shifted to make room.  He hadn’t shifted much, she realized upon sitting, and they wound up pressed together from shoulder to knee.  For the first time, she found herself grateful that Witchers didn’t blush, but made no objection as Eskel rested an arm behind her on the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stayin’ then, Vi?” he asked, giving her a little sideways smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”  After a moment, she leaned against Eskel’s side, and heard his breath catch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier blinked, then gave her a smile before turning to Vesemir.  “Any requests?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vi closed her eyes, tipping her head back against Eskel’s arm as Vesemir rumbled a reply to the bard, and Jaskier began playing something that sounded rather old.  This felt right.  Like she’d come home and it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> home.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They settled into a sort of routine, practice in the morning with Aiden and Lambert, perhaps some sparring with Eskel under Vesemir’s watchful eye, and afternoons spent at separate tasks.  Ciri was working with Eskel in the morning as well, but mostly with Vesemir, learning the basic steps, and spent the afternoons with Yenn and Jaskier, learning magic and all the other things a Princess needed.  A few weeks in, Vi found herself at a bit of a loss in the afternoon, her gear that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> still use in good repair, room cleaned of things that didn’t fit, and some stuff scavenged from storage that did fit sorted, cleaned, and repaired as needed.  Standing in her doorway, looking into her room, she felt lost for the first time since waking up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” she murmured, hands on her hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A soft noise behind her caught her attention, and she turned, spotting Lambert coming up the steps.  He gave her a little smile as he caught sight of her. “Ah, good, you aren’t busy.  C’mon, p- Sis, got something for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>P...”...Pretty boy?” she asked, feeling a spark of amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stopping at the top of the steps, Lambert shuffled his feet a bit in embarrassment.  “Yeah, sorry.  Habit.  I mean, you’re still pretty, all that lovely moon-white hair, but ‘boy’ doesn’t fit.  Pretty girl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, no,” she grumbled, face tightening a little in memory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I’ll come up with something else annoying.  Sis works for now.  Come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he said.  “‘Less you got something else to do this afternoon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sis</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she muttered, and stalked over to the youngest wolf.  “That’s annoying enough.”  But she still followed as he turned to go down the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert headed down towards the great hall, and started speaking again after a few steps.  “I had one, you know.  A sister.  Before...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vi paused behind him, startled.  She’d thought Lambert was an only child.  He’d never mentioned any family beyond his father and mother before.  He stopped a moment later, and looked up at her.  “You had...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A sister.  Younger.”  Lambert gave her a little half smile.  “Elaine.  When Hemminks came for me, I asked him to take her too.  Begged him.  He told me that girls couldn’t be Witchers.  That he couldn’t take us both.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vi dug her fingers into the wall at the words, swallowing hard.  She’d been on the path nearly a decade when Lambert had been brought in.  “Did -” she started, voice coming out as a croak, and stopped as Lambert’s smile turned crooked and sad.  “Lambert...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I lost a sister once, Vi.  Turns out that I got one I didn’t know I had.  And this one I’m not gonna lose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She met his steady stare and swallowed hard.  He held a hand out to her.  “Come on, Sis.  Like I said, got something for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking his hand with a little hum (slightly watery from held back tears, but she’d deny that if asked), she let him pull her down the stairs.  He dropped her hand to lead her through the great hall, heading for the corner they used as an armory.  Once there, he gestured to the bench, where a pile of worked black and dark green wyvern leather sat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try it on for me?  I’ll turn around if you want privacy for the pants.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, she walked over, and picked up the top piece, the upper chest plate, smoothing her hands over the leather.  “You made this for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t go out on the Path come spring in your old gear.  And fuck if I’d want you to be out in it even as long as it took you to get to a smith you could trust.  It’s no grandmaster set or anything, but we can make sure it fits you perfectly, so you don’t have to go out in ill-fitting spares.”  The youngest wolf stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet.  “I’m not.  I can’t...help.  Fix things for you, like Eskel.  Or Vesemir.  But I can do this.  For my </span>
  <em>
    <span>sister</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Both of my sisters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vi made a little inarticulate noise and dropped the armor, crossing over to the prickly Witcher and wrapped her arms around him.  It was weird, being shorter, but it felt right to hug him after so long.  When he finally hugged her back, it felt like another piece of coming home.  Of things righting themselves.  “Thank you, Lambert,” she murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He huffed after a minute and gave her a little shove.  “Come on, try it on.  I wanna make sure it fits.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, all right,” she growled a little at him, turning a bit to run her hands over her face.  She absolutely wasn’t crying, no.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lambert stepped away to give her privacy, and she pulled on the armor.  Which, of course, fit pretty damn well.  Once she’d adjusted all the little buckles, and wiggled everything into place, she hummed a little, prompting Lambert to turn back around.  He prowled over to her, tugging at the various straps and spots to see how it was fitting, then gave her a grin.  “Looks good, sis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feels good,” she told him, giving him a little smile back.  “Lambert...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flapped a hand at her.  “No.  I needed to do this.  I... never noticed, what you liked or didn’t like before.  Like the bard and the kid did.  And you’re my sister now.  As fucked up as this little family is, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>ours</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and I plan on keeping it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Lambert</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”  She reached out and caught his shoulder, gripping hard.  “I.  You weren’t supposed to notice.  And if you want to bemoan being oblivious, at least you didn’t try to sleep with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The younger wolf blinked, then looked towards the stairs.  “....That sorceress?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn, sis.  Do you just attract crazy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huffing at that, she gave him a (relatively) light punch on the shoulder and rolled her eyes.  “Come on.  Spar with me.  I want to see how this all moves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing, Lambert led the way out to the courtyard for a rousing practice bout.  Now that she was getting her feet under her again, sparring was fun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That evening, as the nightly gathering began to break up, people seeking their beds, Vi rose to head up as well, and stopped as Jaskier cleared his throat.  Eskel stopped in the archway, glancing back at her.  She nodded and he left, then turned to Jaskier and dropped back down onto the couch.  She’d been expecting this, somewhat.  They needed to talk - they hadn’t, really, since The Mountain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jaskier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vi,” he said quietly, and gave her a little smile, holding out his hand.  “Pleased to meet you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked, and gave him a crooked little smile in return, reaching out to grip his hand.  “Hm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bard snorted at that, setting his lute down.  “Good to know that’s a you thing, not a ‘I have suppressed trauma I’m refusing to talk to you about’ thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wincing slightly, she let go of his hand, and shrugged a little.  “Talking about it was.  Pointless.”  Looking over to the banked fire, she tried to find words.  An apology was needed, not just for keeping him out, but also for the mountain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier hummed quietly.  “Vi.  I understand that, really.  I wasn’t trying to shame you for not talking to me.  Just a little amused that your hmms are just you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She huffed quietly, relaxing a little, looking back at him. The quiet amusement on his face made her relax a little more, and twisted the guilt up inside her.  “Jaskier.  What I said.  At the mountain, I...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head, cutting her off.  “There was more going on there than I realized.  I honestly thought you and Yenn were sleeping together and I didn’t... We’re both at fault for what happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimacing a little, she shook her head.  “No.  I mean.  A little, perhaps.  But you didn’t know what buttons you were pressing.  I never told you.  You were my friend, and I lashed out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier reached out, stopping just short of touching.  “Apology accepted. Next time I’ve irritated you, let me know right away instead of sitting on it, hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She huffed again, almost a laugh, and shifted slightly, so that his hand bumped her shoulder.  “Does that mean you plan on following me around again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bard gave her a bright grin.  “Think of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>songs</span>
  </em>
  <span>!  The white wolf, released from her curse, on the Path, friend of humanity...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She mock-snarled at him and rolled her eyes.  “Fuck, Jaskier...” she sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed and stood, gathering his lute.  “You have an all new reputation to build, of course I’m going to follow you around.  Goodnight, Vi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight,” she murmured, and watched him go.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter Eight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Some things resolve, some things begin.  But this story ends.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A blizzard descended a few days later, trapping everyone inside, and everyone went just a little stir crazy.  Lambert started teaching Ciri alchemy, leading to several small explosions and both of them getting banned from the lab by Vesemir. Everyone kept finding Aiden napping in the strangest places (Vi found him sleeping on a support beam in the stairway once and spent several minutes agonizing over whether or not to see if he’d fall off if she startled him awake before opting to not find out if Cat Witchers also always landed on their feet).  After banning Lambert and Ciri from the alchemy lab, Vesemir holed up in the library to avoid everyone.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three days in, Vi slipped into the library looking for Vesemir. She’d had time to dwell on what had happened just after she’d chosen to become Geralt (no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>forced</span>
  </em>
  <span> to become Geralt, she reminded herself), and realized that she and Vesemir were overdue for a conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The old Witcher was sprawled in a chair in the gloomy light by one of the windows, a book open on his chest, eyes closed.  The sight made her smile a little; some things never changed, it seemed.  Which was... comforting, actually.  Lambert had said much the same to her.  She debated leaving him, but with everyone else off hiding, it really seemed like the best time.  Gathering up her courage, she cleared her throat, smiling faintly as Vesemir blinked awake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pup,” he rumbled, then stretched slightly and sat up, closing the book. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vi propped her hip on the edge of a nearby table, chewing on her lower lip for a moment.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something you need?” Vesemir asked.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...  Did.  Did you know?”  Vesemir had always been a sort of quiet support, after she’d been changed, though she hadn’t realized it at the time.  She couldn’t really picture Vesemir, the man who’d been mentor and near-father having known what they were planning to do, but...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I know what, Vi?”  he sounded tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About the cuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat forwards and scrubbed his hands over his face.  “...No.  Not until they brought up your survival of the second trial, and needing a ‘solution’ to the problem.  One of the mages suggested it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Did.  Why did...I don’t understand... why...” she trailed off, trying to find the words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why they hated you so much?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vi flinched at the words, hands tightening on the edge of the table enough to make the wood creak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Change, I suppose,” the old Witcher told her, finally looking up and meeting her eyes.  “You were something new, different, for the Wolf school.  Different for most of the schools.  Their pride was at stake, along with tradition.  Do you remember that prophecy I told you when you were younger?  Before the Trials?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.  You said my mother told it to you.”  Of course she remembered.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those words were the only way I could keep you at the school.  And.”  He trailed off, shoulders sagging, looking actually old, for once.  “Forgive me.  I could have just... hidden you away with a family.  But I believed the prophecy, that you needed to become a wolf.  I didn’t know what they would do to you.  I’m sorry.  That I couldn’t protect you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words broke open something, soothed a wound she didn’t know she’d been carrying, and Vi made a quiet noise before moving over to sit down and lean against his leg like she had as a child, when he’d read to their cohort from the bestiary at night. She heard him make a small noise, and then his hand lit gently on her head.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, pup,” he murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You kept me alive,” she murmured in reply.  “Thank you.”  Closing her eyes, she smiled faintly.  “I forgive you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri was the one that found them in the library, just before dinner, startling Vi out of a half-meditative state, and Vesemir out of another doze.  Bouncing in place, she grinned at them.  She’d gotten some time to spar with Vi, under Aiden and Lambert’s watchful eye, but hadn’t really gotten to spend the time with her surprise-parent that she wanted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um,” she started, shifting from foot to foot, eying Vi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her Wolf snorted quietly, the corner of her mouth twitching up in a faint smile.  “What is it, Ciri?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was wondering... Lambert said there’s storage rooms here with clothes ‘n stuff, and you probably already went through them, but.  I was wondering if you’d go look with me?  I need some things and I bet you only picked out the most boring stuff and-” she stopped when Vi held up a hand, the Witcher’s eyes gone all round.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh.  I.  I mean, Yenn would probably-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Vi</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Ciri grumbled.  “Yennefer is.  She’s nice but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s... not finish that thought,” Vi interrupted quickly, then sighed and rolled up to her feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grinning, Ciri reached out and latched onto her hand and pulled her towards the door, then stopped and looked at their hands.  “Oh...” she said, and dropped Vi’s hand, giving the Witcher a worried look.  “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vi shook her head, smiling, and caught Ciri’s hand again.  “No.  It doesn’t hurt anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” the girl said, and promptly moved in to hug the Wolf.  “Good,” she muttered into Vi’s torso fiercely.  “It shouldn’t make you hurt to touch people.”  Pulling back, she latched onto Vi’s hand again and resumed pulling her out of the library.  “Now, come on.  You can’t just keep wearing black.  Or grey.  Or... Whatever that is.  Brown?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vesemir’s dry chuckle followed them out the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few weeks after the blizzard, as things adjusted again, the Witchers able to get out and work off their excess energy, Ciri was back at her lessons with Yenn and then Jaskier in the afternoons.  Which made it a surprise when Vi trotted into the main hall after a work out with her brothers and Aiden in the early afternoon to find Yenn sitting at the main table, clearly waiting.  Aiden snorted quietly and thumped Vi on the shoulder before scruffing Lambert and pulling him away.  Lambert grumbled and protested quietly, but clearly went, as his voice got quieter.  Eskel chuckled quietly and let his hand rest gently on Vi’s neck for a moment, thumb brushing the skin, before he too moved away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yenn never looked away from Vi, just sat there waiting until they were gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vi looked back, studying her quietly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the voices of her brothers had faded out of even Vi’s hearing, Yenn shifted, uncrossing her legs and indicating the other chair at the table.  “Will you sit, Visenna?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vi curled her lip in a little snarl and dropped into the chair.  “Only if you never call me that again,” she grumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vi then,” Yenn said with a little smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Setting her gear down beside the chair, Vi nodded to her.  “...Thank you. For...” and she trailed off, gesturing vaguely to her left arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Yenn’s turn for a little snarl of distaste.  “I rather wish the mage that made that wasn’t already dead.  It was a nasty piece of work, and I’d relish... educating him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm. Please don’t bring him back.”  Vi gave the sorceress a wary look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t plan on it.”  Yenn was quiet for a moment, eyes serious.  “Vi, I did not... we didn’t end things well.  I think perhaps I might have hit a nerve.  Maybe more than once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vi sighed and slumped in the chair.  “I think we both did.  I didn’t mean... what I said on the mountain, I...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.  No, you meant it, just not in the words you said.  And now I know why.”  Yenn looked away.  “I spoke with Ciri about your time traveling to Kaer Morhen. You left her with her parents to avoid dragging her into this life, and destiny dragged her in anyway.”  Looking back at Vi, Yenn gave her a small smile.  “Can we start over?  Fully over, I mean...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vi took a breath, then nodded.  “I’d like that,” she said quietly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yenn sat forward and offered a hand.  “Yennefer of Vengerberg.  Sorceress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vi.  Witcher.”  Vi leaned forwards and took her hand, shaking it firmly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the sorceress said with a smile.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Likewise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As winter started to warm, the Witchers began preparing to return to the Path. Ciri insisted on helping all three of them, making sure they had little luxury items tucked away, that Lambert had a nicer smelling hair balm, that Eskel had a balm as well, for his scars.  As for Vi, Ciri made sure that there was some color packed in among the black, insisting on it.  Ciri and Yenn conspired together to spend some time with Vi, coaxing her into a dress (twice) and makeup (a few more times).  Yenn also stopped leaving when Ciri went to bed in the evenings, staying for the Gwent, gossip, and general relaxation. It was during one of those evenings that they decided that Yenn and Jaskier were staying, to continue Ciri’s education with Vesemir until the three wolves returned in the fall, and Vi would be roaming a bit closer to the keep, so she could check in if needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One night, as everyone began dispersing to their beds for the night, Eskel lingered, catching Vi’s attention.  She stopped in the door, leaning against the door jamb and tipping her head at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something bothering you, ‘Skel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel looked up at her from his seat on the couch, and smiled a little.  “Not bothering me, no.  Not...really?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pushing off of the door, Vi wandered back over, stopping in front of him.  “Are you sure?”  He looked... she wasn’t sure what to call that, actually.  He tipped his head a bit and his hair slid into his face, and Vi reached out automatically to brush it back.  “‘Skel, wh-,” she started, and then trailed off when he leaned into her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vi, I.  Do you remember... In the library, when we were younger?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the library?  Oh, she remembered.  Lips turning up in a little smirk, she left her hand pressed against his cheek.  “Which, the time we snuck the cheese in and got in horrific trouble, the time you spilled ink all over that copy of the bestiary we were supposed to be studying, or-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huffing in amusement, Eskel reached out, hesitating for a moment before letting his hand settle on her hip.  “None of those,” he grumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The warmth of his hand was obvious even through the wool of her pants and she repressed a shiver.  “So you mean the time you kissed me, by the old epic poems,” she murmured.  Looking down at him, she found herself wondering, not for the first time, what it would be like to kiss him now.  Though this time... this time the thought didn’t spike panic and a sense of lost self.  This time she found herself dwelling on it, eyes dropping from his to his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt Eskel’s hand tighten on her hip just a little, saw him swallow, and managed to drag her eyes back up to his.  Oh.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Vi I.  I don’t want to... I </span>
  <em>
    <span>care</span>
  </em>
  <span> about you, Wolf, you know that.”  Eskel’s voice had gone quieter, the rumble a bit more pronounced. “You... you’re my home. My oldest friend.  My...” he trailed off, swallowing again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eskel</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she murmured, and brushed her hand over his scars.  He’d been there, always.  Even when she’d tried to push him away as Geralt.  “You’re my home too,” she told him, cupping his damaged cheek.  “My always.”  Smiling at him for a moment, she let herself feel all the things she’d buried for so long, the sense of safety in his touch, his arms.  She made a quiet noise, feeling free suddenly, free to act, free to care, and leaned down, brushing her lips over his carefully.  The quiet noise Eskel made and the way his hand tightened on her hip again sent a shiver through her.  She lingered in the kiss, enjoying the feel, and then drew back slowly, just enough to meet his eyes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel met her eyes, pupils blown, a slightly stunned look on his face.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hummed softly and brushed her thumb across his cheekbone, gentle with the scars.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Home, huh?” he rumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Home,” she told him, and kissed him again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~The End~~</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Epilogue: Art</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Some art of Vi.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <a href="https://youtu.be/TL0hHXmO_NU">Painting process for Vi in Armor</a>
</p><p> </p><p>Find more art from me @liaonyxrayne on tumblr, @anakudou on twitter, and @artbyanajs on instagram and youtube.</p>
  </div></div>
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